


Mako and the Terrible, Awful, No-Good, Very Bad Road Trip

by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Badgermoles, Canon-Typical Violence, Earth Kingdom (Avatar), Earth Kingdom Fight Clubs, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Mako & Asami Sato Friendship, Mako is trying his best, Mako wants to go home, No Beta We Transcend This Mortal Plane Like Yue, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prince Wu learns about the world, Road Trips, Strangers to Frenemies to Lovers, The Inherent Eroticism of Buddy Comedies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 64,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26505814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee/pseuds/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee
Summary: “You want me to do what?” Mako glares at Lin.She takes a swig of tea and meets his gaze without blinking. “Go to the Earth Kingdom. Find the Earth Queen’s heir. Keep whoever it is alive. Bring the heir back here. Simple.”Mako can feel his face twitch. “Simple.”"Simple."Canon divergence AU set between Books 3 and 4 where Mako goes to retrieve Wu from Ba Sing Se after Zaheer's defeat and they wind up lost in the Earth Kingdom.
Relationships: Mako/Prince Wu (Avatar)
Comments: 269
Kudos: 473
Collections: all them tales that managed to give me serotonin, the peasant's guide to fine reading





	1. The Prince and the Badgermoles

**Author's Note:**

> My first Wuko fic! And it's this ridiculous thing because I'm currently trapped in my apartment due to wildfire smoke and I need something fun and mostly lighthearted.
> 
> Updates will be sporadic and utterly dependent on inspiration. This is my fun project and I'm hoping the content will reflect that. 
> 
> Un-beta-ed because it be like that

**Republic City, after Korra’s Departure**

“You want me to do _what_?” Mako glares at Lin across Pema’s dining room table. Around them, the rest of the late-rising air-bender family slumps over their breakfasts, even high-spirited Meelo practically snoring into his rice porridge.

Lin takes a swig of tea and meets his gaze without blinking. “Go to the Earth Kingdom. Find the Earth Queen’s heir. Keep whoever it is alive. Bring the heir back here. Simple.”

Mako can feel his face twitch. “Simple.”

“Simple,” Beifong practically growls.

Mako takes a passive-aggressive gulp of tea and keeps glaring, one eyebrow spasming with irritation.

“Wow, what a feast, thanks air acolyte kitchen! This looks fantastic!” Bolin enthuses as he drops into the seat next to Mako, completely missing the tension in the air.

Mako shoves his brother out of his personal space and keeps staring down his boss. “This is Raiko’s idea, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Lin says, setting down her mug, “He suggested you specifically.”

“Instead of, you know, the _air benders_. Who _fly_?”

“You. Specifically. The air benders are busy dealing with bigger problems.”

“ _Bigger than the Earth Kingdom’s lack of a ruler???”_

“Bigger. Finding the heir and bringing them back is a one-man job. And right now, that man is you, according to Raiko.”

“I knew it, he hates me.”

“Well, you did kind of put your put in your mouth when you first met him, bro,” Bolin points out, half a roll shoved in his mouth.

…

**The week after Raiko’s election…**

_“Good news, boss, the president-elect’s background check is clean, but he has some foreign investments I’d like to dig into more…”_

_“Mako.”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Meet President-Elect Raiko.”_

_“…oh.”_

…

**Present**

“I had my arms full of files, I had no idea he was right there!” Mako protests.

Bolin pats his shoulder consolingly.

“Do we at least know who survived? Who I should look for?” Mako asks, pulling out a little notebook.

“Nope,” Lin takes another swig of tea.

“Do we have a current family tree?”

“How current?”

“Within the last five years?” Mako grinds out.

“Sure.” She sounds certain, but Lin tends to sound certain about everything she says, no matter how shaky her information.

Mako narrows his eyes. “That is not reassuring.” 

“You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine, bro!” Bolin says encouragingly, “Wait. What are you doing, again?”

Mako gives up and rests his forehead against the table.

…

**The Earth Kingdom**

Mako officially hates his life.

He’s reached a new low.

He’d thought he’d reached rock bottom back when he was eight years old and living off of dumpster scraps and pickpocketing. Or maybe when he was twelve and he was running errands for Lightning Bolt Zolt. Or maybe when he was fourteen and Zolt started taking him on jobs with the crew. Or maybe when he was sixteen, nursing a stab wound and broken ribs he’d gotten in a back-alley brawl he’d hidden from Bolin, lying through his teeth about his and Bolin’s ages to get them into the pro-bending arena and away from the Triads.

Nope.

None of that quite matched up with the sheer misery of trying to sneak into Ba Sing Se via the sewer system with an irritated fire ferret squeaking protests in his ear. For the third time.

Mako slips down a slope of sludge, swearing all the way and _regrets._

“You know, Pabu,” he tells his brother’s pet, “Someone once said that doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results is the definition of insanity.”

Pabu chirrups judgmentally like he might agree with that assessment.

Great.

And now he’s talking to the ferret.

He’s gone from being objectively pretty cool, to covered in sludge and talking to his brother’s pet in a foreign country.

Fuck _everything._

He picks himself up and tries to navigate the sewers one more time.

Pabu chirps despondently.

“It’s this or climbing the wall,” Mako reminds him, “And last time we tried that we almost got crushed to death.”

Turns out, the Dai Li were _still_ not fans of his. Or anyone’s. They seemed to be attempting to regain control of the city by…dropping rocks on anyone who tried to get in or out.

Which.

Not a great plan.

So Mako and Pabu turned to the sewers for a way into the city.

Well. Mako turned. Pabu, being a fire ferret, is mostly along for the ride.

Mako had been against taking Pabu, but Bolin had given him the big, sad eyes and said _“But I can’t go with you, so you have to take Pabu in my place! He’ll watch your back! Won’t you, little buddy?”_ And then he’d made kissy faces at the fire ferret until Mako separated them for his own sanity’s sake.

The first route they’d tried turned into and unpassable dead end, the stone passages melted into an impenetrable mass by the Red Lotus. The second attempt had ended in failure when a gang of feral lizard creatures tried to eat them. This, the third attempt is going less than spectacularly, but so far has not ended in any near-death experiences.

Yay. Progress.

Mako is already composing a letter in his head.

_Dear Korra,_

_Raiko sent me on a stupid suicide mission to resurrect a cultural institution (the monarchy) that I don’t even believe in. Here’s hoping I don’t die horribly due to Dai Li._

No, he’d never send that. Korra is recovering from actual fucking _torture_. She doesn’t need his bitching about Dai Li, sewer beasts and the stupidity of hereditary monarchy. Maybe he’d write to Bolin.

_Dear Bolin,_

_If you’re reading this, Pabu and I have been squashed by a Dai Li earth bender._

No, no, nope, can’t worry Bolin.

_Dear Asami,_

_What’s green and slimy and found in Ba Sing Se sewers? Me and Pabu._

_Life’s a horrible joke!_

_Sincerely,_

_The sewer creature formerly known as Mako_

At least Asami would think it was funny. You know. Probably.

Mako is about ready to give up and find a less slippery sewer to skulk through, when he hears something. An echo. A voice?

“Am I losing my mind, Pabu, or is someone _singing_ down here?”

Pabu chitters as if to say ‘Sure, pal, if you call that singing’.

Which is fair. Mako wasn’t in school very long, just long enough to learn to read and write and do sums, but he remembers a lesson on ocean animals from a few weeks before his parents died. The teacher had said that whales communicate through making huge, echoing sounds underwater. Researchers call them ‘songs’ but they’re more like rhythmic bellowing.

That’s what this sounded like. Rhythmic bellowing.

“If this is some kind of underground whale-beast, I’m asking Lin for a raise.”

Pabu chirrs in agreement.

They turn a corner to find…and enormous tunnel bored into the side of the sewer passageway. The scent of freshly turned soil wafts out to mingle with the rank, sludgy smell of the sewer all around them.

“What on earth?” Mako mutters. Pabu shrinks back into the collar of his coat, chirring uneasily.

The whale-song sounds are coming from inside the fresh tunnel.

“What do you think?” Mako asks the fire ferret. “In or out?”

Pabu squeaks and wriggles completely under his shirt.

“In it is.”

Pabu makes a noise of protest, which Mako soundly ignores as he steps into the tunnel.

…

Several minutes into exploring the fresh tunnel and more sounds have trickled out to join the weird, eerie underground whale song. A thudding and shuffling noise like large feet against the earth. Mako remembers when they were very small, how obsessed Bolin was with Toph Beifong and her badgermoles.

_“Where would you go if you could go anywhere, Bolin?”_

_“The zoo!”_

_“The zoo?”_

_“Yeah! To see the badgermoles and learn earth bending, just like Toph!”_

_“Well. Maybe someday we can go. When I have a little money.”_

_“Where would you go, Mako?”_

_“I dunno. Somewhere warm. And dry. With lots of food and nobody wanting to stab me.”_

_“Yeah. That’d be nice.”_

The tunnels twist and wind and if Mako peers closely at the walls he can see what might be marks from paws full of blunt, shovel-like claws. The singing is getting louder, “I wonder if badgermoles sing like whales?” he muses to Pabu.

Pabu is shivering in his coat and does not respond.

Mako, still following the tunnel’s almost whimsical curves, turns a corner. The singing is clearer here, much clearer, and he can almost… yes, he can make out words. Actual words. There’s another human down here.

And they’re…pretty horrendously off-key, honestly.

_“We're all alone, no chaperone  
Can get our number  
The world's in slumber  
Let's misbehave”_

Mako recognizes that song. It was all over the radio a few years ago. Ginger’s ill-advised attempt at a record career, Bolin told him. He’d always thought her voice too nasally for good music.

The tunnels feed into a massive underground chamber where one of the oddest sights Mako’s seen since Korra turned into a giant glowing blue version of herself and punched primordial chaos in the face. In this chamber a pair of badgermoles shuffle and stamp in a quadruped’s version of a two-step and a skinny man in rather worse for wear green and gold brocade belts out the next verse of the song.

_“There's something wild about you child_

_That's so contagious_

_Let's be outrageous_

_Let's misbehave”_

Mako can be excused for blurting out the first thing to come to mind. Although, in hindsight, saying “What the actual _fuck_?” at top volume to a stranger with apparent badgermole mind control powers, was not his brightest idea.

Mako has just enough time to think, succinctly, _Shit_ , before an enormous dark brown paw is descending and consciousness leaves his body.

…

Mako comes to an immediately takes personal inventory.

  * He now has a massive, massive, went-drinking-with-Tu-oh-god-never-again splitting headache
  * Pabu is giving the source of the headache a piece of his tiny, furry mind and it is _not helping_
  * He is on the ground, in a cave, and there is a stranger’s face hovering over his and two badgermoles and oh spirits, what is happening right now?



Mako tries to sit up, nearly head-butts the looming stranger, sinks back to the ground groaning when that makes the room spin and his stomach lurch, brings both hands (unbound, so he’s not taken prisoner, good to know) up to cover his face to shield it from the electric torches the stranger has stuck into the dirt walls, realizes both hands are filthy and should not be anywhere near his eyes, and promptly drops them back down again.

“What the fuck just happened?”

“Mei got a little spooked. You shouldn’t just start yelling around badgermoles, you know. Their ears are very sensitive.”

“Then why were you _yodeling_ at them?”

“Excuse _you_ , I was _singing_. _Melodiously,_ I might add. The badgermoles like it. Mei and Yang got me out of the city when it burned. It’s the least I can do to bring a little life and love to their lives now that we’re down here most of the time.”

“Huh?”

“Well, I _do_ go up to the house above us periodically, you know, to use the facilities. I hardly feel _human_ without regular baths.”

“There’s a house above us?”

“Mn. Mei hit you pretty hard, didn’t she?” The man smiles cheerfully at him and Mako wonders if this is what waking up in the spirit world feels like – surreal and kind of painful. The man in front of him at least looks like a human and not a spirit. He’s slender, with a boyish face and a pronounced nose. His hair curls where it’s escaped from a queue that has definitely seen better days. His eyes are cool, forest green, his skin a warm brown, his mouth wide and expressive.

Mako has no clue who he is.

“Who are you?”

“It’s a secret,” the man winks at him, holding a theatrical finger up to his lips.

Mako stares flatly back at him. “If you say ‘The Avatar’ I’m calling rhino-shit. I know the Avatar personally.”

The man blinks at him. “Do people really do that? Claim to be the Avatar?”

Mako shrugs. Sure. People also claim to be the Earth Queen and King Bumi of Omashu. People claim all kinds of things. They’re typically delusional, but hey, no judgment.

“Well I am _not_ the Avatar, but if you know her, that’s great! I hear she’s a really swell dame!”

“A what?”

“A dame. A girl. You know, a lady.”

“Yeah, no, just…nobody talks like that.”

The guy frowns at him, “Are you sure? Because that’s what they sound like in movers, and if you can’t trust the mover industry…”

“ _Never_ trust the mover industry. _Ever._ That’s how you end up in jail staring at a poster of your brother wearing furry shorts while someone tries to kidnap the president who hates you.”

“Um. Speaking from experience there, big guy?”

Yes, yes he is.

The stranger sighs explosively and stretches his arms above his head, “Well that is a disappointment, buddy. A real kick in the head. I love me a good mover.”

“Good for you?” Mako isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say or do in this situation. There’s nothing in the police training handbook for ‘I’m in a cave under a foreign city with a stranger and his two massive, furry friends.’

“So, what brings you to my humble burrow?” the stranger says merrily.

“I’m looking for someone.”

“Well, you found a someone! Me! What do ya know?”

“Uh, I’m looking for someone specific.”

The stranger nods, looking contemplative. “Yes, people typically are.”

They stare at each other for a long moment.

“So…is that still a ‘no’ on telling me your name?” Mako asks.

“Maybe!” the guy says cheerily, “What’s your name?”

“Why should I tell you my name? You keep refusing to tell me yours!”

The guy blinks as if turnabout as fair play had never occurred to him as a concept. “Huh. Well clearly neither of us has thought this through.”

Mako can feel his eyebrow start twitching again.

“Fine. Okay. You want my name? Fine. I’m Mako of the Republic City Police Department, friend of Avatar Korra. Happy?”

The stranger tilts his head to the side, “Republic City Police? Aren’t you a little…ah…lost?”

“No, I’m supposed to be here.”

“No, I’m pretty sure you’re not.”

Mako point blank _refuses_ to get into another nuh-uh, yeah-huh argument. Once with Ikki and Meelo had been enough.

“I _told_ you, I’m _looking_ for somebody!”

“Someone specific, right? Well, do you have a picture? Maybe I can help! I don’t know very many people and I mostly live in a cave now except for trips to the villa above us for their bathroom – don’t worry, it’s empty, the people living there fled the city when, ah, you know, it caught fire. But I can try! We can be like detectives from those buddy-cop movers!”

Mako stares at the stranger. He can feel a tension headache building between his eyes. He resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I have no reason to trust you with that information. You live in a cave!”

“Hey, way to judge the cave lifestyle, there, buddy.”

“I’m not judging the ‘cave lifestyle’, I’m saying there’s no way you know who I’m looking for, and last time I checked, just because you run into someone in an underground tunnel, that does not make them trustworthy!”

“But you don’t knoooow I don’t know who you’re looking for. And excuse you, I am imminently trustable.”

“Says who?!”  
“Well, the badgermoles are _excellent_ character references. I should know. They _hated_ my great-aunt, and let me tell _you_ she was _not_ a pleasant person. No wonder those violent fellows bumped her off, really. Now, badgermoles, as I mentioned, _adore_ me, and everyone knows animals know things humans don’t – ”

“Um. My condolences?”

“About what?”

“Your murdered great aunt?”

The stranger looks at him blankly. “Oh. Yes, well,” he looks uncomfortable, “She didn’t like me much, see. After my parents died, she took custody and, well, she wasn’t exactly the type to like children.”

“Um. Sorry about that too.” Mako fidgets with his jacket, “My parents died when I was young too.”

The stranger looks genuinely heartbroken for him. “Were you forced to live with your horrible great-aunt too?”

“Um. No.”

“Lucky.”

“Not really.” Mako is not really in the mood to confide the sleeping-in-trash-heaps portion of his backstory just yet.

More silence. This time awkward.

“So…” the stranger begins, “Who are you looking for? I promise I won’t tell. No one to tell, really. Just me and Yang and Mei.” The badgermoles in question snuffle at their names, but leave Mako’s head alone, which is an improvement.

Mako sighs. “Fine. I’ve been sent to find the last of the Hou-Tings.”

The stranger must be an awful Pai Sho player. Mako can see him lose the battle to keep his facial expression controlled instantly. His green eyes go wide, his mouth opens a little in surprise, and he blinks several times in quick succession, automatically leaning away from Mako. “Ah, what, why? Um. Where? I mean, wow, what a tall order you’ve got there, big guy! That’ll be real tough, yes it will. To. Um. Find those Hou-Tings.”

Mako is a good detective. He may be bad at reading people but he can read evidence when it’s shoved into his face. “You’re one of them.”

“What? Noooo, no way! Me? A Hou-Ting? You sure are silly, Mako-of-the-Republic-City-Police-Department!”

Mako glares at him. That at least shuts the stranger up. “You. Are. A Hou-Ting. Which one are you? I have the family tree.” He pats down his pockets, searching for the thing, finally locating it and unfolding the (slightly damp) paper.

For a royal family the ‘tree’ is pretty skimpy. Pretty much any relative who could have challenged the Earth Queen’s hold on the throne met a suspicious end long before Zaheer got to the city. All that were left were elderly cousins, a legitimate great-nephew, and a small army of bastards from various princes, kings, queens, and princesses over the years.

Based on what the stranger said about being raised by his great-aunt after his parents’ deaths, and his age, Mako is 99% sure this is Wu Hou-Ting, the last of the Hou-Ting dynasty.

“You’re Prince Wu,” Mako says, stabbing a finger onto the prince’s entry on the family tree.

“Ah, haha…guilty as charged, officer.”

“I’m a detective.”

“Congrats, ya solved me, officer.”

“No, it’s a rank. Like, I was an officer, but now I’m a detective.”

The stranger – Wu – deflates a little, “Well, I’m comforted that, if you are an assassin here to kill me, you’ve put a lot of effort into the act so at least you’re a _good_ assassin. I would hate to be assassinated by a _bad_ assassin. No class, bad assassins.”

“I’m not an assassin,” Mako huffs. “Look, you said animals are good judges of character?”

The prince nods dejectedly.

Mako reaches into the collar of his shirt, “Come on, Pabu, get out here.”

Pabu chitters irritably as Mako fishes him out, but he does perch on his shoulder nicely when Mako finally manages to extract him. The fire ferret even stretches out his little furry neck to sniff at Wu.

“Aww, aren’t you _adorable_ , little guy?” Wu coos at the fire ferret, practically melting in place. “That’s so cute! Little guy and big guy! Do you have a name?”

“His name’s Pabu.”

Wu huffs, “I was asking him, but sure, interrupt,” he looks back at Pabu, “That’s okay, nice to meet you, Pabu!”

Mako doesn’t think speaking to animals is an actual ability people can have. He’ll double check with Jinora. She speaks to spirits. She might have some insight.

“I don’t suppose you have a badge to support this whole ‘I’m here on official business’ story of yours?”

Of course! Mako should have reached his limit for feeling ridiculous, but turns out that limit just keeps expanding, like an infinite horizon of absurdity. He fishes his badge out of an inside pocket, “Yeah, of course, I definitely have a badge, here.” He holds it out.

Wu squints at it. “Hm. Well. I have no idea what the Republic City Police Force’s badge is supposed to look like.”

“Seriously?”

Wu shrugs, “You could have shown me a coupon for free mochi and I wouldn’t know the difference. Well. I’d know it was a mochi coupon. I assume those have writing on them identifying them as mochi coupons.”

Mako puts his badge away and resists the urge to lie face down in the dirt and let the earth reclaim him.

“But you seem really dedicated to the act if you are lying, so I’m going to believe you!”

What.

Some of his consternation must have shown on his face, because Wu laughs, voice a little brittle, “I don’t have any other options, see. Mei and Yang can live down here, they’re meant to live underground. But I can’t. And I’m pretty sure if I showed my face up there, the Dai Li would arrest me as a pretender to the throne – I heard there’s been quite a bit of that since the Queen died – or someone would mug me and there I’d be, stabbed and left for dead.”

Well. That was. Grim.

Wu continues, “So I think I’ll trust you to take me somewhere safe. After all? What do I have to lose?” he shoots Mako a pained smile, “There’s not much left for me here after all.”

Mako deflates, “Alright. We’ll head for Republic City tomorrow.”

“Oh!” Wu chirps, as if the thought has just occurred to him, “Do they have hair salons in Republic City?”

“Hair – yes, yes they do.”  
“Excellent! I’ve always wanted to cut my hair short! Short and stylish, that’s the kind of hair a modern Earth King should have!”

“You know…I could cut your hair. I have a knife.”

Wu gives him a Look. “Mako. Buddy. Have you seen your hair? No.”

Mako tries not to feel offended as he self-consciously reaches a hand up toward his hair. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Don’t touch it, you have sludge on your hands.”

Mako sighs. This is going to be a long road trip. He can tell.

...


	2. Serpent's Pass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Asami,  
> I did not get eaten, maimed, or poisoned by a platypus-gator in the Ba Sing Se sewers. I did get knocked unconscious by a badgermole. Found the prince. Headed back to Republic City. Nearly died again in Serpent’s Pass because His Highness is a sucker for baby animals.  
> Hope you’re well and the reconstruction is going okay.  
> Tell everyone I’m thinking of them if you see them,  
> Mako
> 
> In Which Our Heroes Interact With Some Wildlife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big THANK YOU to everyone who left comments or kudos! Y'all keep me inspired.

**Serpent’s Pass**

_Dear Asami,_

_I did not get eaten, maimed, or poisoned by a platypus-gator in the Ba Sing Se sewers. I did get knocked unconscious by a badgermole. Found the prince. Headed back to Republic City. Nearly died again in Serpent’s Pass because His Highness is a sucker for baby animals._

_Hope you’re well and the reconstruction is going okay._

_Tell everyone I’m thinking of them if you see them,_

_Mako_

…

“I don’t know why you’re still crying.”

“I’m not crying,” Wu sniffles pointedly.

Mako does not know what to say in the face of this blatant falsehood.

“Fine. I’m a little weepy.”

“I noticed.”

“I’d like to see you not shed a manly tear or two when you bid the animal companions who saved your bacon farewell as you depart on a life-changing journey with a strange man and his adorable fire-ferret.”

Pabu preens at the praise. Mako, who has not cried in front of another human being since he was eight years old, blinks. “Your experiences are not universal.”

“I _know,_ it was _hypothetical_ ,” the prince huffs.

“Um.” Mako has never, ever known what to do when people cry. He has a foggy memory of his dad laughing about his reaction to baby Bolin’s tantrums. Apparently, four-year-old Mako had once walked right up to a wailing two-year old Bolin and said, “ _You stop that,”_ in the most authoritative tone he could manage. Bolin had not stopped that and four-year-old Mako had looked up at his dad, shrugged, said “I tried,” and walked away with his hands over his ears.

He’d like to say he’s gotten better over the years. Whenever Bolin got weepy after their parents died, he’d just defaulted to opening his arms and letting his little brother cling to him and cry himself out, snot stains be damned. He’d tell Bolin he was there and let him cry, then go fix whatever problem made the crying happen in the first place.

If he could.

Dead parents were not a problem he could fix.

Mako is a fixer. He’s had to be. If Bolin had a problem? He’d fix it. If Zolt had a problem? Mako had better fix it right away or his ass was deep-fried. If the gym had a problem? He’d better go ahead and fix that or he and Bolin might wind up homeless again.

Well. Considering he’s covered with now-dried sewer sludge, a hug is probably out. Not to mention, hugging strangers is one of those things that makes Mako want to peel off his skin and run away, never to be seen again.

He settles for awkwardly patting the prince’s shoulder. “There, there.”

Wu smiles at him like he just singlehandedly made the sun come out on a cloudy day. “Thanks, big guy.”

Geez. How starved for affection is this guy? Mako gives him one last shoulder-pat for good measure.

There. That should tide him over for what? Two weeks?

“So, where are we going on this…creepy twisty, rocky path?” Wu asks.

The badgermoles had tunneled them out from under the city proper but stopped once they got past the outer wall, unable or unwilling to dig father. Mako isn’t really sure.

“This is Serpent’s Pass,” Mako says. “It’s one of the oldest ways in or out of the city. No one uses it. This is how we’re going to get out of here.”

“We couldn’t take a train? With a nice dining car and no falling rocks?”

“No,” Mako scowls, “All the rail lines are either destroyed or under the Dai Li’s thumb.”

“So. Uh. Hiking it is.” Wu swallows. “Hiking outside of Ba Sing Se. Yep. Uh-huh.” He starts bouncing in place, punching the air in front of him.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Getting psyched up. Your body controls your mind, big guy. Gotta convince it we’re a lean, mean, ready-to-see-the-outside-world-for-the-first-time fighting machine!”

“Yeah. No. Fire benders believe the mind controls the body. If your mind is calm, your inner flame doesn’t burn down buildings.”

“Jeez, grim much?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you. If you don’t stop hopping around, I’m picking you up and carrying you.”

“Really?” Wu looks annoyingly intrigued by this.

“Like a sack of potato-radishes. It will not be fun.”

Wu pouts. “Come on, buddy, I’ve never been out of the city before. I’m…it’s a new experience, okay?”

“Will carrying Pabu make you feel better?”

Pabu chirrs encouragingly.

“Yes!” Wu brightens up instantly.

Mako surrenders Pabu. The fire ferret immediately rubs noses with the prince and curls around his neck like a fluffy orange and white scarf.

“Alright!” Wu says, enthusiastic again, “Let’s go!”

Mako sighs.

…

Decades ago, the city had tried to remake The Serpent’s Pass into a tourist destination. Apparently, Avatar Aang and his crew once escorted a family of refugees through the pass and into Ba Sing Se before Princess Azula conquered it. The family of refugees in question were surprisingly against this idea, telling interviewers that the Pass was too dangerous for the public, and the only reason they survived was due to the Avatar and his water bending and earth bending master’s intervention. The project went through despite their very valid concerns, and Serpent’s Pass was re-opened as an “adventure tourism” site. Whatever that meant.

It did not last long as an “adventure tourism” site.

Turns out putting a tourist trap in the middle of an enormous sea serpent’s natural habitat is a good way to get people killed.

It was re-designated as a wildlife refuge and largely abandoned.

Mako knows all this because Wu told him.

At length.

Turns out, the prince knows quite a bit of Earth Kingdom history, and chatters when he’s nervous.

“How do you know all this stuff?” Mako asks, climbing over a heap of rubble leftover from a long-ago rock slide.

“Tutors,” Wu pants as he clambers after him, “Lots of tutors. My great-aunt kept me around so she could make me into the perfect little Hou-Ting heir. And that requires a whole lot of boring Earth Kingdom history lessons, let me tell you.”

“Boring?” Mako furrows his brow and reaches down to haul the prince up by the back of his robes. “How? I mean. It seems pretty interesting. Sea serpents and Avatars and all.”

Wu blows a loose curl out of his face. His hair is getting even puffier in the humidity from the water, tight curls popping up like flowers in springtime. It makes him look even younger, somehow. Soft.

“My tutors could make _anything_ boring,” he rolls his eyes, “All the interesting bits are from books and newspapers. We had such a beautiful library in the palace. My great-aunt never went in there so I could read anything I wanted, no one was going to stop me. Kiyoshi Warrior Suki’s memoirs are _wild_! I’d love to meet her someday! Her and Master Katara, and Toph Beifong, and everybody. I met Lord Zuko and Chief Sokka once, when I was very small. They came to visit my parents and my great-aunt made a huge stink about Lord Zuko’s dragon landing on her topiaries.” Wu looks Mako dead in the eye, “That woman was. Obsessed. With topiaries.”

Mako isn’t 100% sure what a topiary is but he sure as shit not going to ask and risk looking like a moron.

Wu is chattering about some other obscure bit of gossipy historical trivia when they turn a corner and are confronted with…a creature. Scaled, blue, shaped like a cross between a fish, a lizard, and a serpent and about the size of a baby air bison...oh shit.

“Wu…back away slowly.”

Wu does not back away slowly. Wu approaches the creature, who is making a strange, distressed trilling/cooing noise.

“Hey, you don’t look too hot, little buddy,” Wu says, “You’re supposed to be in the water, aren’t you? How’d you get up here?”

Pabu makes a trilling sound of protest and jumps ship, landing on Mako’s shoulders with an annoyed squeak.

Wu has crouched down beside the probably-a-baby-sea-serpent-oh-spirits-why. “Do you need help getting back down to the bay? Here – Mako, gimme your jacket.”

“What? No!” Mako objects reflexively. Yes, his coat will definitely need to be laundered after the sewers. Repeatedly. But it’s his jacket! It’s the first expensive piece of clothing he ever bought for himself! He’s attached to it, dammit!

Wu just gives him a look Mako normally only sees from Pema when her children are literally climbing the walls. Mako has no idea how a prince has the mom-look down like that, and doesn’t really want to find out. He shucks off his jacket and hands it over.

Wu lays it out on the path and coaxes the baby serpent onto the cloth. The serpent, who is looking a little gray for a naturally blue creature, wriggles its way onto the coat. Wu draws the sides up into a makeshift sling. “Can you take a side, big guy?”

“Do I have to?”

Again with the shame-on-you look. Geez. Mako takes a side.

They totter down the rocky slope towards the water. The serpent wiggles weakly in the sling and makes more of the sad keening noises.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Mako asks.

“Nope! But it’s the responsible thing to do! Returning creatures to their natural habitat is important, don’t you think?”

Mako would pinch the bridge of his nose if his hands weren’t occupied. He really would.

They awkwardly slide the sea serpent back into the water. It perks up immediately, splashing happily and trilling happily as it swims away.

“See? We did a good thing! Isn’t that just the puma’s pajamas?” Wu claps Mako on the back surprisingly forcefully considering his skinny frame.

“Sure, okay, we did a good thing.”

“Alright, back up the…rocky incline…huh. Maybe I didn’t think this through…” Wu says, peering up the slope.

“That’s just occurring to you _now_?”

“Well, I did say I didn’t think it through, didn’t I?”

Mako does pinch the bridge of his nose. He’s so distracted warding off the migraine hurricane his highness has induced that he almost misses their next near-death experience. He feels the shift in the air before he hears the predator’s scream, and his body acts before his brain connects the dots. He tackles the prince to the ground just in time for a pair of razor-sharp tusks to miss their heads.

“Vaatu’s _arse_ ,” Mako swears, jumping back to his feet, fire crackling in his fingers, “What was _that_?”

“Oooh. That would be a flying boar,” Wu says from the ground. “I’ve never seen one up close.”

“A _what_?”

“ _That_ must have been how that little fellow ended up so far ashore!” Wu exclaims, “Flying boars are omnivores and scavengers. They’ll eat anything! Including the young of other predators! This fellow must have scooped up that little one and tried to carry it off!”

The flying boar is huge. About half the size of Oogi, with the body of a feral hog and a predator’s wingspan, it squeals in rage, spittle flying from its mouthful of tusks. Beady eyes glower down at them, full of hate. Rough bristles cover its stocky body and hooves churn the air as it reaches the apex of its climb and descends again.

Mako firms his stance. “STAY DOWN,” he orders, praying Wu actually listens this time. Lightning is a bad idea this close to a massive body of water and a vulnerable non-bender. But one of the advantages of being a largely self-taught bender is he’s not married to formal fire bending forms. He moves his hands the way he’s seen Korra do when she’s water bending. A circle of flame roars up around him and Wu in a bright, golden swirl. Mako casts out his hands, pulling tentacles of fire out of his wreath of flames. He sends them snapping up in blazing tendrils, slapping at the boar’s snout and wings.

The flying boar shrieks and pulls out of its dive, landing on the path above them instead. It stamps its hooves and squeals again.

Mako swirls his hands again, pulling his fire whips in and turning their circle into a fiery vortex. Wu or Pabu squeaks somewhere but Mako’s attention is all on the boar. Sparks still cling to its wings and it shakes the feathery limbs out irritably before ducking its head and charging.

Mako pulls the fire back in, smothering the circle of flames and bringing the fire back to his hands. “WU GET OUT OF IT’S PATH!” Mako shouts, and then does something very, very stupid.

He charges the charging boar right back.

“MAKO!” he hears Wu shout behind him.

“GET OUT OF IT’S PATH, DAMMIT!” Mako shouts back. The boar is charging, wings pulled in tight, head down, tusks out. Mako puts on speed, running up a large rock and jumping up, kicking out a band of flame straight into the boar’s eyes. He adds another flip to try and orient his descent, landing on the boar’s skull. He dissipates the fire in his hands, instead grabbing the boar’s ears and _yanking._

It _shrieks_ and tries to come to a stop, still trying to shake off the flames. Off to the side, safely out of the way, Mako sees Wu clutching Pabu and staring at him with wide eyes.

Mako gives into an absurd impulse and throws the guy a jaunty wave straight out of his pro-bender days.

The boar isn’t stopping.

_The boar isn’t stopping._

It tried to put on the brakes, but they’re on a slope, and the boar is skidding out like a car with Korra behind the wheel.

Mako crouches, and, watching as the water gets closer and closer, carefully times it so when the boar hits the waves, he kicks off its back, using fire-jets to get more height and distance between himself and the boar currently toppling into the water.

He lands. Not gracefully, but he’s all in one piece and that’s what matters.

The boar is screaming and thrashing in the water, trying to get upright again and hindered by its wings.

Mako is trying to catch his breath when he hears Wu shouting over the sounds of the boar’s struggles.

“MAKO GET OUT OF THERE _NOW_!”

Mako looks up and sees the shape of a scaly, sliver-blue, _familiar_ head rising out of the water.

The baby sea serpent went and got its mama.

Mako’s jaw drops.

That thing…he thought the flying boar was big. He thought the _sky bison_ were big. They’ve got _nothing_ on _this_.

“MAKO!” Wu is still shouting.

The adult sea serpent opens its mouth and lets out a screaming roar the likes of which Mako has never heard in his life and would very much like to never, ever hear again.

He starts running. Not looking back, not waiting to see how this battle will end. He is running the way he’s never run in his _life_.

Wu is there, reaching out to help him scramble up the rocks. And then they’re scrambling together, Mako easily outpacing the shorter, slighter prince. They hit the path, Mako hauling Wu up behind him.

Wu is panting, eyes wild. “Keep running?”

Mako risks a look behind them to where the boar is putting up a losing fight against the sea serpent. Wow. That is. A lot of blood in the water.

He nods, “Keep running!”

They bolt down the path as if Vaatu himself were on their heels. They don’t stop until they’ve crossed the Avatar Aang Memorial Bridge and are safely on solid ground again.

Wu collapses once they’re off the bridge, wheezing, looking even more disheveled. Pabu is drooping around his neck like and wheezing right along with him. Mako braces his hands on his knees and tries to get air back into his lungs.

“We…should…get…further…away…” Mako gasps.

“You…up…to…carrying…me…now…?” Wu asks from where he’s sprawled on the ground in a heap of tattered silk brocade.

“Not…really…”

“Come on…buddy…” Wu holds a hand up, “Help me…up…we’ll shuffle the…rest…of…the way…together.”

Mako’s pride would object, but frankly his pride can take the bruising. The rest of his body already has.

He takes Wu’s hand and hoists the prince up.

“When you get…your breath…back…can you carry me?” Wu asks.

“Don’t…make me…regret…not leaving…you to the boar.”

…

Halfway to the end of the path, Mako gives in and just picks up the prince.

“Shut up, don’t get used to this.”

“My big, strong bodyguard.”

“Not your bodyguard.”

“Agree to disagree.”

“How many fucking layers of this shit are you wearing? You’re heavier than you look.”

“Seventeen.”

“What the _shit_?”

“I wanted layers. In case it got cold. So, I just put on as many layers of robes I could still move in.”

“Well _get rid of some of them_ or walk on your own!”

…

_Dear Mako,_

_All is well here. The reconstruction contracts have really given Future Industries the boost it needed after everything. Not to mention Varrick is finally paying me back for everything he stole. He’s still hiding out in Zaofu, the weasel. Bolin apparently “bullied him into it” when he got to Zaofu. I’m taking that to mean he just gave him the big, sad Bolin eyes and Varrick folded like a napkin._

_Meelo says you’re “out of harmony with nature, therefore it rejects you.” So. Do with that what you will._

_Senna says Korra is healing but it will take time._

_I miss all of you._

_Asami_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if flying boars are a real animal in AtLA or not, but the Beifongs had one on their seal and all I could think about was how terrifying an actual flying boar would be.


	3. The Biker Gang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Asami,  
> Wu used my jacket to save a baby sea serpent right before we almost got killed by a flying boar (don’t ask). Turns out my map was in there. We’re lost.   
> Also, the biker gang from that one town you and Korra went to? They’re still pissed, fyi.   
> Tell Korra and her family I said hello,   
> Mako  
> P.S. All my money was safely in my boot, so suck it, Bolin, it’s not “weird and paranoid” to hide cash in secret pockets.
> 
> In Which One of Our Heroes Is Kidnapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR ALL THE COMMENTS AND KUDOS. YOU KEEP ME WRITING.

**The Biker Gang**

_Dear Asami,_

_Wu used my jacket to save a baby sea serpent right before we almost got killed by a flying boar (don’t ask). Turns out my map was in there. We’re lost._

_Also, the biker gang from that one town you and Korra went to? They’re still pissed, fyi._

_Tell Korra and her family I said hello,_

_Mako_

_P.S. All my money was safely in my boot, so suck it, Bolin, it’s not “weird and paranoid” to hide cash in secret pockets._

…

“For the record…that is disturbing.”

“Socks?”

“No, keeping your _money_ in your _socks_.”

“It’s not in my socks, it’s in my shoes, and I had to take the shoes off to get to the money, hence why I’m wearing socks! I always wear socks; they’re just hidden by the shoes!”

“You’re very vehement on the subject of socks, big guy.”

“YOU STARTED IT!”

Mako has to admit, his temper is fraying a bit. They managed to find a train station that was actually open and functional, and bought tickets (the rates were so steep Mako was actually offended on his budget’s behalf. He could have bought a month’s worth of groceries for what it cost to cram himself and Wu in a freight car with a bunch of cabbages) only to wind up stranded in a town in the middle of nowhere due to a rockslide rendering the tracks impassable.

Mako had tried to negotiate for a partial refund on their tickets, since they _hadn’t actually gotten where they needed to go_ , and was met with disturbingly chipper refusal.

“There are no refunds on the Emerald Express!” the girl at the counter had chirped, smiling an unsettling, too-wide smile at him that had Wu cowering behind his back and Pabu ducking back under his collar.

Mako had tried to argue the point. Wu had even mustered up the courage to intervene and try charming the ticket counter operator. That did not go well _at all_.

That, had, in fact, ended with both of them bodily heaved from the train platform by a hulking mass of muscle named Po who informed them they were not welcome back.

“Well, that was rude,” Wu had huffed, standing up, “What an absolutely disgraceful way to treat my royal person! I’m going to give that troglodyte a piece of my mind!”

Mako had then picked Wu up like a thrashing, whining bag of potato-radishes and walked away with him slung over his shoulder because “Revealing your identity is just asking for you to be kidnapped. Try not to be an idiot about this, okay?”

Wu had sulked all the way to the motel.

And now he’s ridiculing Mako’s money storage system, which is really just too much.

“Fine, fine,” Wu huffs primly, “I’ll leave your very special, very important socks alone.”

Mako pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to remember the breathing exercises his mother taught him.

Wu seems to have a special talent for cracking whatever veneer of calm Mako has managed to paste together for the day.

The prince, unbothered by Mako’s rapidly unraveling sanity, is unpacking his bag and hanging up his dozen or so robes in the tiny closet. Mako had insisted on buying a satchel for the _nine hundred fucking_ layers of clothing the prince saw fit to carry with him from Ba Sing Se. One, because wearing that many layers would slow anyone down when they’re fleeing for their lives, two, the robes are obnoxiously eye-catching considering they’re trying to be discreet, and three, he really doesn’t want to be responsible for the prince getting heatstroke and dying from continuing to carry around his own body weight in silk and linen.

So. A satchel it was.

Wu is now tutting over how crinkled and stained everything has gotten.

Mako is mourning the loss of his trusty coat. He liked that coat. Also, he feels a little stupid in just his shirt and trousers when Wu is dressed like…well…Wu.

“So, what’s the plan?” Wu asks.

“The plan?”

“Yes. I figured you’d have one. You seem like the plan type of fellow.”

Mako would like to _stop_ being the plan type of fellow since it just seems to get him into these situations. “Buy a vehicle of some sort. Get to the next town with a train station. Take a train to Republic City. Or, get to an airfield and buy tickets on an airship, although that seems less likely than a functioning train.”

“Ooh, I’ve never been on an airship. Do I get to vote on train or airship? Because, for the record, I vote airship.”

“No. You don’t. We take what we can get.”

Wu sighs, “You sound like my governess telling me to eat my vegetables.”

“Same basic concept.”

“I don’t like grumpy Mako,” Wu declares, “Bring back fun Mako.”

Mako just glares at him. Wu pokes him in the cheek because Wu is insufferable.

“Come on…smile.”

“No.”

“Try it. Some people say smiling makes you happier.”

“I think you have that backwards.”

Wu pokes him in the other cheek.

“I will bite your finger if you keep doing that. I have a little brother, I’m not afraid of you.”

Wu positively _beams_ at this, for no discernable reason. “You have a little brother! See, I’m learning about you!”

“You are a profoundly strange person and knowing you is detrimental to my health and well-being.”

Wu just smiles at him. “Come on, I know what will cheer you up _and_ help us find a way out of here.”

“What?”

“Let’s go to the local dive bar!”

Mako gapes at him. “ _What_?”

“Come on,” Wu encourages, “We go to the local pub, we chat up some people, get the low-down on the city, scope out where to get a vehicle cheap, you know, get the dirt on everything going down here! That’s what they do in movers! The tough guy and the charming guy (I’m the charming guy, you’re the tough guy) go down the pub and get friendly with the locals and shake up some info!”

Mako blinks at him slowly. “I’m sorry, _what_?” he asks, trying to figure out if he should be offended or not.

Wu makes some kind of gesture, presumably indicating Mako’s Mako-ness, or something. “It’s your character type. You’re the no-nonsense, tough-guy detective who’s always breaking the rules juuuust a little to save the day and get the bad guy!”

“Wu, you can’t just break real people down into…character archetypes!” Mako protests, “We’re real people! We’re…complicated! Life isn’t a fucking mover!”

Wu’s face falls a little and his shoulders slump, “I know, I’m sorry. I don’t really know anything about the real world. I was never allowed outside before. Just. What’s in movers.”

Mako bites his tongue in order to avoid saying something thoughtless like ‘That’s pretty pathetic, man,’ or ‘Raava in a teapot, what were they thinking raising you like that?’. There’s sheltered and then there’s a cruel degree of isolation. It’s like the queen was setting him up to fail.

What did she think would happen when she died and he ascended the throne, huh? Or maybe she was just too self-centered to think beyond her topiaries (whatever those are, Mako still doesn’t know).

He scrubs his hands over his face. Ugh. “Fine. Your idea wasn’t terrible. It’s always good to get the lay of the land. Just don’t expect it to be like a mover set, okay?”

Wu gives him a tentative, shaky smile. “Really? Not a terrible idea?”

“Don’t fish for compliments.”

…

They leave Pabu at the motel. He’s made a next for himself out of pillows and squeaks reproachfully when Mako tries to move him. Wu says that’s alright, because he’s pretty sure bars don’t allow pets.

Mako isn’t so sure about that considering the number of places Bolin has snuck Pabu into and out of over the years, but he’s not going to argue the point.

…

In hindsight, Mako only has himself to blame for what happens. He should have known not to let Wu out of his sight, even for the half-second it takes to grab their drinks from the bar.

He left Wu sitting alone at a high-top table and when he turns around, Wu has not only left his seat, he’s chatting up a storm with some rough-looking strangers dressed in a hodgepodge of army surplus and motorcycle leathers.

_Piercings…tattoos…oh, and they’re all wearing the same insignia on their jackets. Wu had found himself a biker gang._

Mako resists the urge to just chug both the drinks in his hands.

He’s about to walk over and extricate Wu before he accidentally insults someone and gets his teeth knocked in or, worse, _the future Earth King accidentally joins a biker gang_ when Mako’s day gets exponentially worse. A second biker gang walks in. This one larger, and better equipped than Wu’s new pals.

_Shit._

Mako turns to hightail it over to Wu and get the two of them out of here, when one of the newcomers spots him.

“Hey, you!”

Mako keeps walking because responding to a ‘hey, you’ spoken in that tone of voice is like saying “yes, please beat me to a pulp.” Admittedly, so does ignoring the ‘hey, you,’ but at least the walk-and-ignore gets you further away from the person who might hypothetically beat you to a pulp.

The hey-you-er grabs him by the back of his shirt which is a _dick_ move because, unlike his companion, Mako _only has the one shirt._ “Hey, hey, hands off,” he says, holding up his own hands in the universal gesture for ‘jeez, pal, I’m obviously not about to hit you, so maybe you shouldn’t hit me?’.

The mountain of a man – and do all Earth Kingdom men come in two sizes: tiny and a Problem, or MASSIVE and a PROBLEM? – glares down at him, green and black hair falling in his face. “You’re one of the Avatar’s little gang, aren’t ya?”

“Um.” Mako does not know how to answer that. Because technically, yes, he is one of Korra’s friends and has traveled with her in the past, but he’s not currently traveling with her for the foreseeable future? “We’re friends? Do you…need something?”

“I knew it,” the guy grins, revealing at least one gold tooth. He holds up an old newspaper. There, on the front page, is an old photo of the Fire Ferrets. It’s their first big win after that mess with Amon. The team have their helmets off, their hair sweaty and disheveled from a hard-fought game. Korra and Bolin are beaming at the camera, Asami, their team sponsor, sandwiched between them and laughing. The Mako in the newspaper has an arm slung over Korra’s shoulders so his hand can reach out and muss Bolin’s hair. He isn’t looking at the camera. He’s laughing. They’re all laughing.

It makes something ache in the center of his chest. What happened to those kids? In less than a year he feels like the last traces of the happy, hard-knock teenagers they’d been have been sandblasted away.

“Is this you?” the guy asks, stabbing a thick finger at newspaper Mako’s face.

“Yeah,” Mako shrugs, “What do you want with Avatar?”

“We want our gold back, _punk_ ,” a new voice says and the last thing Mako thinks before a heavy something comes down on his skull is ‘really? ‘Punk’ was the best they could come up with? My grandma cusses people out better than that’.

…

Mako wakes up tied to a chair.

Considering his life experiences to date, this is a relatively unusual one. Most of the Triple Threats hadn’t really gone in for tying people to chairs. They took the extortion to the victims, up front and personal. None of this outdated cloak and dagger shit. Even the cops just threw him in a cell. They didn’t handcuff him to furniture first.

He’s in a warehouse.

Of all the clichés.

“I’m gonna have to apologize,” he slurs as his vision clears.

“For what?” barks one of the bikers.

He doesn’t shake his head, knowing that will just hurt. “To my…traveling companion. Life really is a mover.”

“To his what?” one of the bikers asks.

“Travel eat comp mush on,” one of the others guesses.

Okay, so Mako isn’t conscious enough for compound words.

“What?” biker A asks.

“Search me,” biker B verbally shrugs.

“Whaddya want with me?” Mako manages to get his eyes focused long enough to take stock of his location. He’s in a warehouse, or what was probably a warehouse and is now a makeshift garage for a veritable fleet of junker motorcycles, jeeps, and metal-plated trucks.

“The Avatar took in some tax money for the queen a few weeks back,” the Lead Biker announces.

“Yeah, _our_ tax money,” one his followers gripes.

“Shut up,” the leader barks, “Now, we have one of her friends and the queen is dead. We figure, she did a pretty good job collecting gold for that Hou-Ting bitch, she can collect the gold _back_ for us.”

Mako squints at him. Geez, the lights are bright in here. How illuminated does this place really have to be? It’s just got vehicles and him. “Why do you want this gold so bad?”

“That gold belongs to the people.”

“The people here are fucking terrified of you, man, try another line.”

“I _said_ the gold belongs to the _people._ We’re people. Get it?”

Mako snorts and instantly regrets it when the sound sends a sharp spike of pain through his head, “Yeah, I get it. You’re not pissed the queen was extorting her own people. You’re pissed that there’s less for you to extort for yourselves. You don’t give two shits for the people in this town. You just want to play warlord and bleed them dry. That’s why there’s a rockslide in front of the train. I’m betting one of you’s an earth bender and you’re stopping the train and fleecing the passengers who get stranded here. It’s pretty basic shit. Not even baby-level scamming. It’s just robbery.”

“That’s enough outta you, you little –” one of the bikers snarls, backhanding him across the face.

_Vaatu’s arse, that hurt_ s.

Mako blinks stars out of his eyes and focuses on breathing.

He’s tied to the chair with leather straps, probably someone’s old belt, his arms pulled behind him with his wrists strapped together. He curls his hands towards each other and focuses on building a tiny ball of highly concentrated heat between his palms.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

“You’re pathetic,” Mako spits, drawing up all the old bravo he’d carried when he’d been fifteen. Some people had scoffed at Zolt taking him and Bolin on, but Mako was vicious and Bolin’s baby face and big green eyes could charm the gold right out of the city treasury. “Lording over a little town in the middle of nowhere. I bet you do that shit where you ride up behind little old grannies on your bikes and rev the engines just to spook em’. I bet a big payday for you is knocking over some poor bastard’s fruit stand.” He’s slipping into street talk now, his diction softening and sharpening into the patterns he’d picked up from Shady Shin and the crew. Spirits, he’d drilled Bolin relentlessly on how to talk nice, how to talk proper, practiced every night so they’d be able to talk like their mama used to, like gentlemen. Like people who’d be taken seriously one day.

“No wonder Korra and Asami took you down in minutes. You’ve got nothing but style and no substance to back it up.”

The gang is angry now, they’re all muttering something along the lines of “shut him up” and “put him down”.

Good. He needs them angry. He needs them distracted.

“You got something else you’d like to add,” drawls the leader, reaching over and clamping a hand around Mako’s throat, leaning down to get in his face. “Punk?”

Before Lord Zuko left for the Fire Nation, Mako asked him how to perfect the Breath of Fire.

The old man’s good eye had twinkled at him and he’d said, “What can I say? All fire bending comes from the breath.”

Now, with this thug’s face inches from his own, Mako closes his eyes and _breathes._

…

Things happen very quickly after that.

The gang leader reels back as a plume of golden fire flies from Mako’s lips. The bikers are all shouting now, trying to pat out the little flames smoldering in his hair and clothes.

Mako uses their distraction to split the ball of white-hot flame between his palms in two and twist his hands around in their bindings (rubbing the skin right off his wrists as he does so – _ouch_ ), opening his fingers and releasing the flame onto the leather straps.

The leather dries, cracks, and falls away in seconds.

Mako is up and moving immediately, drawing up a curtain of fire the way a water bender might a wave, spinning it around his body to condense it and build momentum, then hurling the ball of fire at the mass of bikers in front of him.

They hit the ground shrieking and diving for weapons.

Mako keeps moving forward, firing off precise blasts of flame to keep any attackers down. It’s just like pro-bending again. Advance, advance, swerve, dodge, keep light on your feet, slide under an obstacle, get up, get up, get up, fire off more fireballs to keep them busy, keep your senses open, be aware of everything around you.

He drops to the ground when a much larger man rushes him. He keeps all his weight on his bent leg, sending the other out in a spinning kick, trailing a curtain of fire that sends the other man stumbling back, trying to put out his trousers.

While on the ground Mako spies the newspaper that the leader shoved in his face earlier. Some strange lurch of nostalgia has him grabbing the thing and stuffing it in his shirt. Maybe he’ll cut out the picture and put in his wallet. Keep his family close and all that.

He can practically hear Wu in his head going _“Close to what? Your socks?”_

What is it with that guy and clothes?

Mako shifts his weight to his free leg, drawing the other up and kicking another man in the chest.

Something’s shifting though. Over the sounds of the general chaos and disorder he hears…revving engines?

His first thought is _shit, reinforcements_. But that makes no sense. He’s still puzzling over it as he throws himself to the ground, sliding on his side, channeling heat through his palms powerful enough to crack the earth and make at least two men with thin-soled shoes dance the ‘oh spirits, the ground is hot and my feet are vulnerable’ dance.

He twists himself up, fire flying from his hands, when the massive cargo doors burst open as a huge armored van slams through them, coming to a skidding stop in front of the fight.

“GET IN, IT’S JAIL BREAK TIME!” hollers an unfamiliar voice.

“Huh?” Mako spares the new development a single glance before he’s back to shooting fireballs at people who want him dead. Or at least less mobile.

“MAKO, WE’RE HERE TO RESCUE YOU!” shouts an unfortunately familiar voice from the back of one of the two motorcycles accompanying the van.

“WU?”

Great, just great. He got temporarily kidnapped and the future Earth King _actually_ joined a biker gang.

Beifong is going to _skin him alive._

Or she’ll think this is the funniest thing she’s ever heard.

She can be a bit hard to read sometimes.

Mako, not seeing any other way this is going to end well for him, bolts for the van full of strangers. At least if he and Wu are kidnapped together, he can keep an eye on the prince.

The person not driving the van grabs him by the hand and hoists him into the cab, yelling “MOVE OUT!” and the group turns and exits the warehouse, leaving chaos in their wake.

…

They’re back in the dive bar.

Somehow, _they’re back in this stupid bar._ Mako gives up and rests his aching head on the table.

“Here ya go,” the holler-er from the warehouse says, setting a glass of iced honey mint tea next to Mako’s head. “Perk you right up.”

Mako squints up to see a woman about his height, dressed in green and black leather with short, spiky green hair and more metal in her face than Wu’s entire jewelry hoard (“I thought I could sell some of the pieces for money!” “Some of these are priceless antiquities! You’re never going to find a buyer!” “Never say never, big guy!”).

“Thanks,” he rasps, throat sore after breathing fire and being choked.

“No problem,” she shrugs. “Those guys shoulda known better than to nose in on our territory. This bar is ours. They’re not welcome here.”

Well. Good to know that for once, intergang rivalry came down on his side.

“Yeah, they treat the people in this neighborhood like crap,” one of her crew says disdainfully. “They can go fuck themselves.”

“Mako, are you alright?” Wu looks concerned and very ruffled from his motorcycle adventure. Apparently, his new friends saw fit to give him a haircut before riding to Mako’s rescue, although they stopped at dying his cloud of curls green. The look is actually a little similar to Kai’s, with the sides and back clipped close and the top a little longer. The main difference the long-ish cascade of curls artfully tousled over one green eye.

“Huh. You got your hair cut.”

“I did, but you got kidnapped! Is hair really worth a friend’s life and safety? No, no it is not. So, I said to myself, ‘Wu, you’d better ask these nice people to help you rescue poor Mako, it’s what he would do for you’. And then we did and now you’re here and your eye is looking a little…um…raw-meat-like, but Big Lee has assured me you won’t lose it, so there’s that.”

“Big Lee?”

“That’s me,” a person who is also dressed in green and black, with slightly less metal in their face, smiles next to Mako’s shoulder, offering a towel full of ice, which he gratefully presses to his eye.

“Um. No offence. But…you’re not that big.”

Big Lee laughs, tossing long black hair over one shoulder. “I’m the oldest of the Lees. So, I’m Big Lee. It’s just our luck that the youngest turned out the tallest, isn’t that right, Little Lee?”

A man easily twice Mako’s width and a solid head taller than him and composed almost entirely of muscle, nods in agreement.

“We’re all named Lee here,” the fourth member of their little band says. She’s tall and slender, narrower and willowier than the Lee(?) who brought him the mint tea. “I’m Other Lee.”

“And I’m Boss Lee,” the tea-bringing says, sitting down. She reminds Mako a little of Chief Beifong, but he isn’t sure how complimentary she’d find the comparison.

“We’ve lived above this bar for years,” Other Lee explains, “When the Queen started driving up the taxes everyone was struggling. Then those guys who took you started stealing the tax money back. We thought they were some kind of modern-day Blue Spirits, who would return the money to the town.”

“Instead the bastards just kept it all for themselves, and started squeezing the rest of us for more,” scoffs Big Lee.

“So, we started our own outfit,” concludes Boss Lee, “We steal from the thieves and give it back to our neighborhood. Try to make it safe for people to live here, so they don’t have to run inside and hide every time they hear an engine.”

“That’s noble of you,” Mako says. “I wish my family had people looking out for them in Ba Sing Se.”

“Lower Ringers?” rumbles Little Lee.

“Yeah,” Mako admits, not making eye contact with Wu.

“That’s rough, kid,” Boss Lee says, “Now drink your tea and stop talking. You trashed your throat with all those pyrotechnics.”

…

They walk back to the inn after bidding goodbye to the Lees, who promised they’d hook them up with a cheap vehicle in the morning.

Wu is subdued on the walk, hunched in his robes and staring at the ground.

“New hair’s nice,” Mako says, feeling as if he should break the silence but not sure how to do so.

“Thanks,” Wu gives him a sliver of a smile, “Lot less heavy now.” He keeps staring at the ground, kicking at pebbles with his battered palace shoes.

“We should get you some boots,” Mako says, “Those shoes won’t last much longer.”

“Hmm,” Wu hums, bumping his shoulder against Mako’s.

“What’s wrong with you? You sick or something? Normally you’d be jumping for joy at the thought of going shopping.”

“Well maybe I’m not just so shallow, spoiled brat, Mako? Maybe I have other things to think about!” Wu snaps, then immediately flushes, flinches, and looks away. He even puts distance between them, slipping off to the side where they can’t bump elbows.

“I didn’t say that,” Mako huffs, rolling his eyes. “Sorry for being concerned when you’re acting weird. I’ll try to resist the urge to mother hen you!” This is just like when he broke up with Korra. Apparently, he’s just that shitty at talking to people. He doesn’t even have to date them, and he alienates them. What did he expect?

“I never said you were,” Wu begins to snap but immediately deflates. He actually stops walking, still staring at the ground, arms limp at his sides, shoulders slumped. He looks…small and sad.

Mako gets a few steps ahead before he realizes and stops too. He stares at the prince, all forlorn on the sidewalk and knows a shoulder pat is probably not going to cut it here.

“Mako?” Wu’s voice is even small. It’s strange. His voice normally takes up all the space in any given room.

“Yeah?”

“My people…they’re going to _hate_ me.”  
Huh?

Wu’s not done talking, “They’ve been out here, suffering, scared, and hurt and I _didn’t even know._ My great-aunt _ruined_ this town. And probably a bunch of other towns! And I’m supposed to what? Fix it? How? I’ve never left Ba Sing Se! I was barely ever let out of the palace! And apparently people were suffering there too! Like your family! They were _there,_ and I _didn’t know._ What kind of a prince does that make me? What kind of terrible, awful, no good, waste of space, person does that make me? What if I’m going to turn into her? What if, in fifty years, I’ll just be another Hou-Ting who makes everyone miserable? So miserable that when some terrorist comes in and _sucks all the air out of my lungs_ , my people will be _happy_?” He opens his mouth to say more but all that comes out is a huge, jagged, gulping sob. He cries like a toddler cries, without restraint or reservation. He cries like Bolin cried when he was cold, and scared, and hungry, and all he had in the world was Mako.

So Mako does what he used to do for Bolin, he holds out his arms.

Wu stares at him like he’s insane, fat tears dribbling down his face. “What are you doing?”

“Offering you a hug. One-time offer. Take it or leave it.”

Wu sniffles, “But no one hugs me. I’m the prince.”

“Fuck, fine, no hugs, I get it,” Mako huffs, moving to drop his arms and feeling like an idiot, when Wu surges forward and throws both arms around his middle and clutches him like a child with a plush platypus-bear. Like Korra with Naga. Like Tenzin’s family whenever they’ve been apart for a long time.

“Listen, Wu,” Mako sighs, resting his hands on those skinny, shaking shoulders, “You aren’t going to turn into your great-aunt.”

“But how do you _know_?”

“Because you care. And you listen to people. A leader should know their people or they aren’t really a leader at all. Your great-aunt? Wasn’t a leader. But the minute you realized your ignorance, you started trying to fix it. And that matters.

“You want to know how I know you won’t turn into your great-aunt? You listen. You really listen. When the Lees were telling you their problems, you didn’t shout them down or tell them they weren’t important or plug your ears and refuse to acknowledge the truth. You opened your mind and you received what they had to say. You’re trying to learn. You’re trying to listen and do better.

“The past is the past. It’s over. All you can do is learn from it and do better.”

Wu snuffles against Mako’s shirt. Which is probably ruined. It’s like he’s playing a horrible game of strip-rescue mission. At this rate he’ll be down to his underpants by the time they reach Republic City.

“Thank you, Mako,” Wu whispers.

“Thank you for befriending bikers and coming to pick me up.”

“Rescue you. We rescued you. It’s okay. Even big, tough guys like you can take being rescued by little old me once in a while.”

“I had it under control.”

“Everything was on fire.”

“Fire is a solution to every problem if you think creatively enough.”

…

_Dear Mako,_

_City planning? Not my thing. Never my thing. Guess what I’m doing all day every day now just to get these rail lines in place? City planning! I’ve been basically living off sugary tea. I might have to take a page out of your book and set up camp in my office. You are a terrible influence and I’m stealing your sleeping bag from the Police Precinct._

_If you get yourself killed by a biker gang, I’m sending Jinora to the Spirit World to drag your ass back to the land of the living so I slap you upside the head myself. See if I don’t._

_Best wishes,_

_Asami_

_P.S. Bolin is settling into Zaofu, but things are tense there what with Su refusing to take control of the Earth Kingdom as some kind of interim ruler? A regent? Whatever, she said no and now she and Kuvira and Bataar Jr. are fighting all the time about their patriotic duty. Bolin says it’s very stressful._

_P.P.S. Senna and Tonraq send their love, Korra is working hard with Katara but progress is slow._

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought those biker dudes from season 3 of LoK were super shady. The second the townspeople heard those engines rev they all hid inside? And closed the shutters? And generally looked really, really scared? Those are not dudes who are giving that gold back to the people. 
> 
> So I created a biker gang of OCs specifically to protect the town. As you do.


	4. Tahno and the Earth Rumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Asami,   
> Remember that pro-bending match Amon crashed where we almost died? The captain of the other team (the cheating bastards, I mean…the Wolf Bats) is here. In the Earth Kingdom. His name is Tahno and he’s a musician now (Korra gave him his bending back but apparently, he has hobbies or something. Weird.) and he’s touring the Earth Kingdom. How do I know? I’m stuck on his tour bus and contemplating throwing myself out a window. I’d only break…maybe three bones? Is that worth it?   
> Mako  
> P.S. Update, did not jump out of the tour bus and now I have regrets.
> 
> In Which Our Hero Meets an Old Acquaintance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR ALL THE LOVELY COMMENTS. Y'ALL ARE THE BEST!

**Tahno and the Earth Rumble**

_Dear Asami,_

_Remember that pro-bending match Amon crashed where we almost died? The captain of the other team (the cheating bastards, I mean…the Wolf Bats) is here. In the Earth Kingdom. His name is Tahno and he’s a musician now (Korra gave him his bending back but apparently, he has hobbies or something. Weird.) and he’s touring the Earth Kingdom. How do I know? I’m stuck on his tour bus and contemplating throwing myself out a window. I’d only break…maybe three bones? Is that worth it? _

_Mako_

_P.S. Update, did not jump out of the tour bus and now I have regrets._

…

Wu wakes him up by dropping Pabu on his chest and waving a steaming cup of tea under his nose. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

“Shut up,” Mako grumbles into his pillow, as Pabu stabs tiny, pointy feet between his ribs, “Not a sleepyhead. Fire benders rise with the sun.”

“Mmmhmmm,” Wu hums, “Sure they do.”

Mako pries his eyes open to see…the sun barely staining the horizon pink. “Yes. They do. The sun’s not up yet,” he turns the kind of morning death glare only a man with truly intimidating eyebrows can manage. “ _Why are you bothering me?”_

Wu rests a hand on Mako’s shoulder. He immediately removes it when Mako turns his glare on the hand and claps both hands together instead. “Good news!”

“ _Good_ news?” Mako growls.

“Boss Lee found us a ride out of here!”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s on this band’s tour bus, so it’s a little cramped.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But they seem like very cool cats, if you know what I mean. Very jazzy.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You and the lead trombone player can talk about pro-bending! He was on a team too!”

Wu had demanded to hear all about the Fire Ferrets as soon as he’d seen the newspaper Mako brought back from the gang’s kidnap warehouse. He’d been weirdly enthusiastic about it. Of course, he’d directed half his questions to Pabu, so it could be he was just overcompensating for his momentary lapse in good cheer earlier.

“Uh-huh,” Mako gives up and just lets Pabu climb up onto his shoulder.

“Yeah, his name’s Tahno!”

Mako stares at him for a long moment. “And this bus. Is our only option for getting out of town.”

“On your budget?” Wu raises a judgmental I’m-royal-and-don’t-understand-money eyebrow.

Mako snatches the cup of tea out of his hands and downs it like a shot. A scalding, bitter, horrible shot.

“ _Raava in a teapot, that hurt._ ”

“Are you okay?”

“No, I just chugged _hot tea_ and I’m about to spend several days crammed into a metal box with my old sports rival.”

“…do you want some water?”

“ _I want this to be a terrible dream._ ”

“No, no, no don’t go back to sleep, we leave in an hour!”

_“_ I yearn for death.”

…

“Weren’t you one of the…what were they…fire monkeys?” Tahno drawls.

It’s hour two of this torture and it’s the first time Tahno has spoken to Mako, he’s been too busy having some kind of weird extrovert battle for conversational dominance with Wu. Tahno has abandoned trying to out-Wu Wu (thank the spirits, they were giving Mako a headache to go with all the assorted body aches he’s picked up in the last few days) only to come over and bother Mako.

Mako stares at the other man. Tahno hasn’t changed at all. Same stupid hair. Same flashy fashion sense. Same limp-wristed hand gestures. It’s not a water bender thing, Mako knows. Master Katara doesn’t flop her hands around like dead fish. It’s just Tahno being Tahno.

“No.”

Tahno huffs like Mako is being difficult. Mako _is_ being difficult, but for the record, Tahno started it. “Fire…lizards? No, that’s not right.”

Pabu pops his head out from Mako’s shirt collar and squeaks indignantly at the water bender.

Tahno flops a hand in some kind of flourish, “Oh, that’s right. The fire rats.”

“ _Fire Ferrets_ ,” Mako growls.

“Fire Ferrets, that’s right. After your little furry mascot.”

“ _Yes._ ”

“And you’re Bolin.”

“ _Mako._ And you’re Tahno. We’ve had nine games together since the junior leagues. Ten, if you count the _charity match we beat you in_ recently.”

“Oh, that’s right, Bolin.”

“ _Mako_.”

“You keep making that sound. Are you well? You’d better not have brought some kind of throat disease on my bus. I need these lungs for trombone.”

“No, it’s my name, dumbass,” Mako snaps, “My name is _Mako_. Bolin’s my brother.”

“No, that can’t be right, why would I know your brother’s name?”

“Because he was also on the team?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“I’m telling you that if you don’t get out of my face and start calling me by the correct name, I’m going to tie you into a knot and throw you out of a moving vehicle!”

“ _Ooookay,_ ” Wu interjects, trying to defuse the situation, “Someone’s grumpy. That’s on me, I didn’t want to miss your departure time, so I may have woken him up a little early.”

“Yes, well, no skin off my nose if toddlers need their nappy times,” Tahno tosses his hair.

Wu steers Mako away to the other side of the bus, where Tahno’s less insufferable band members sit, before he can give in to the urge to light the other man on fire.

“I hate that guy.”

“I know,” Wu sighs, and then has the gall to pat Mako on the shoulder. “There, there.”

Mako pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

…

They manage not to murder each other for two days, before they’re stopping in another town.

“Are we done; can we leave now?” Mako asks Wu when the other man returns from the tiny visitor information center.

“Well, big guy, the good news is I have a full list of all the restaurants and cultural sights in this lovely town!” Wu says with brittle cheer.

“And the bad news?”

“There’s no railway or bus system. Looks like we’re saying with Tahno and the band!”

Mako buries his face in his hands.

…

_Dear Bolin,_

_Guess what? Tahno plays trombone in a band now. How do I know this? Wu and are stranded in the Earth Kingdom and the only mode of transportation we’ve got is Tahno’s tour bus!_

_If he calls me by your name one more time, I’m melting his stupid trombone down to slag._

_Your brother,_

_Mako_

_P.S. Pabu sends his love_

…

Mako is trying his best to enjoy a bowl of noodles in one of the many restaurants on Wu’s list when Than comes tearing through the door, looking like there are actual wolf bats on his heels.

“Bolin!”

“For the last time, it’s Mako!”

“You have to help me!”

“What? Why?”

Tahno skids to a stop in front of their table, nearly upendeding Wu’s glass of water. “I may have lost all my money betting on the mini Rumble a few blocks away.”

“Oh, the visitor center lady told me about that!” Wu says, “Apparently Toph Beifong used to compete in the main Earth Rumble down in Gaoling!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tahno waves off this information, “the thing is, I may have bet a liiiiittle more than I have on hand, currently.”

“And how is this my problem?” Mako asks, taking a pointed bite of noodles.

“Because I bet the bus.”

Mako chokes on his bite of noodles, “ _What_?”

“And I lost it.”

“Seriously?” Even Wu looks irate at this revelation.

“And the only way to win it back is to fight in the mini Rumble and win back the money I lost so I can pay off the bookie…”

“So?”

“So, I can’t fight in the mini Rumble! I’m a water bender! So, I signed you up. All you have to do is win enough for us to get the bus back and get out of here!”

Mako is speechless.

Wu is not, “How could you do that? Of all the irresponsible, idiotic-!” which is pretty rich, coming from High Royal Highness Prince ‘I packed seventeen robes and no toothbrush so now Mako has to buy me one’, but Mako will let it slide. He has bigger problems.

“Hey, Bolin’s an earth bender!” Tahno exclaims, “It’s an earth bending fight club thing! It makes perfect sense!”

“Yeah, _Bolin_ is.” Mako says, “ _I’m_ a fire bender.”

“Really? I thought it was the other way around.”

“No, you had the names and abilities right, just not the – you know what, fine. I have to fight a few earth benders to get out of this town and away from you, fine. I’ll do it.”

“Mako!” Wu protests.

“Perfect, you’re already signed up,” Tahno gives him one of those grins that make all his fangirls melt and everybody else want to punch him in the face.

…

“Are you sure about this?” Wu asks when Mako hands over his battered shirt.

“It’s the only shirt I have. I’d rather ruin the undershirt and still be able to wear this one.”

“Not about the shirt! About letting huge earth benders beat you up for entertainment!”

“It’s this or walking.”

Wu chews his lower lip, curls falling in his eyes. “Be careful?”

“Don’t worry,” Mako claps him on the shoulder. A little too hard, apparently, because Wu’s entire body sways with the gesture. “I’ll be fine.”

…

Fun fact: the Republic City Police Academy Entrance Exam has not been updated much since Toph Beifong’s tenure as Chief of Police. This means a significant portion of the physical test involves dodging rocks. Small rocks. Big rocks. Medium rocks. On-fire rocks. Rocks in water. Lots of rocks.

All while someone yells questions at you about the law. And ethics. And occasionally random subjects just to keep you on your toes.

And occasionally actors in costume pop up and you have to save them from danger. 

It’s extremely stressful.

Lin once explained it was an attempt to weed out people who were likely to perform badly in high stress situations.

Apparently Mako did very well.

The last ten years of Mako’s life have been an ongoing high stress situation, so maybe he’s just really used to it.

Between pro-bending and Beifong, he’s actually pretty well-prepared for violent confrontations with earth benders.

He’s still not thrilled about it.

The first match is over pretty quickly. He’s up against a guy whose main method of attack is – you guessed it – hurling giant boulders at his opponents. But the problem with hurling giant boulders is there’s always a gap between releasing the boulder, and having a new boulder in hand, ready for hurling.

Mako slides underneath the first boulder, popping up in the boulder-hurler’s space, and takes him down with a swift kick to the groin and punch to the head.

Boulder guy goes down like a bag of bricks.

The second contender is more challenging, mainly because he’s more creative. His main gimmick is shifting the ground around under his opponents’ feet so they can never stabilize themselves enough to make a concentrated attack. Mako spends some very unpleasant minutes slip-sliding around, falling on his face, and generally making a fool out of himself before he manages to get close enough to just straight up jump-tackle the guy. Luckily, sitting on your opponents and waiting for the timer to buzz is apparently a valid take down tactic.

Mako doesn’t beat the third person he faces. Mostly because the third person’s tactic is drawing up a rock, smashing it into tiny daggers of stone and sending them after Mako like a wave of deadly missiles. It’s actually a pretty clever trick – probably based on water benders and their ability to throw dozens of ice fragments at once. The only reason Mako isn’t full of rock shards is that the earth bender got a little too enthusiastic and accidentally injured an audience member and was disqualified.

The fourth challenger is a sand bender who blinds and smothers him with a tight cloud of stinging sand, and then, when he’s gasping for breath and stumbling, kicks his feet out from under him.

Getting knocked unconscious is something of a relief at that point. The last thing he sees before he blacks out is the sand bender woman frowning down at him, looking disappointed.

…

Mako comes to on a cot outside the arena. The first thing he does is sit up. The second thing he does is nearly pass out when Wu practically hurls himself into Mako’s chest.

“Mako, Mako, are you okay? Answer me! How many fingers am I holding up? Do you have all your limbs? You’re breathing, right? You feel like you’re breathing. Any broken limbs? Cuts? Bruises? They’ve got to have a healer on staff here… Mako, answer me!”

“I will…when you aren’t squeezing me…like a cobra-python.”

Wu immediately drops his hands and bounces back a step. “You’re alive, oh thank Raava. You scared ten years off my life! I should have that woman charged with…almost murder!”

“Attempted murder?”

“Yes! That!”

“She wasn’t trying to kill me. She stopped as soon as I was down. It was clean.” By the rules of the Earth Rumble system, that is. In pro-bending that would definitely be a foul.

“You’re okay, though, right?” Wu’s hands flutter restlessly, like he wants to pat Mako down and make sure he’s actually still in one piece.

“Yes, I’m fine. Sore, but fine.”

“That’s it. No more getting knocked unconscious for you, buddy! That could do lasting damage to your brain, you know!”

“Last time I checked; you were the one who told a badgermole to knock me out.”

“That’s in the past! From before I really knew you!”

Mako lies back down with a groan.

“Mako! Are you dying?” Wu’s worried face peers down at him. Backlit by the lights of the arena, curls askew, he looks all…soft again. But sweet. Kind of spiritual. _Ethereal_. That’s the word.

Wow. Mako has definitely taken one too many hits to the head.

“I’m fine,” he waves Wu’s concern off, suddenly wanting very much for the prince to not be quite so close, and soft and _concerned._

“If you’re sure,” Wu puts a hand on Mako’s chest, casually, almost as if he just needs to feel Mako breathe. “I would hate to be stranded here all alone.”

“You wouldn’t be alone,” Mako quips. “You’d have Tahno.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Wu groans, “That had better have gotten him his bus back, because I am _not_ getting in that arena for him. Those people look like they can snap me in half! I’m _delicate,_ Mako.”

The exaggerated pout Wu sends his way breaks something deep in Mako’s chest and suddenly he’s laughing like he hasn’t laughed in weeks. Months, even. Maybe years. He’s laughing until there are tears welling at the corners of his eyes. Hysterical. Wu is looking at him, all bemused and still a little worried.

“It wasn’t that funny, big guy.”

It wasn’t, it really wasn’t. Mako has no _idea_ why he’s laughing, but spirits, he can’t stop.

Of course, that’s when Tahno walks in. The other man stares at them for a long moment before tossing his hair dismissively, “Whatever you’re doing. Stop. It’s disturbing.”

That just makes Mako laugh harder. He’s clutching his aching ribs and _howling_ and even though it, hurts, it’s so worth it just for the borderline horrified look on Tahno’s face.

“Um. We got the bus back. And some Earth Kingdom gold for… _Mako_ here’s performance. So, um. Thank you. _Mako_. Thank you for helping me. I couldn’t have done what you did.”

Mako smothers his laughter long enough to make eye contact with Tahno. “You’re welcome, Tahno.”

Tahno scowls as if the effort of being nice to Mako has left a bad taste in his mouth. “The gold is yours. Use it to buy a new shirt. Or new clothes. Just. Change…all that,” he waves a hand indicating pretty much everything about Mako. “And maybe get some other clothes for his Majesty. He sticks out like an otter penguin on a tropical island like that.”

Niceness apparently exhausted, Tahno sweeps out of the room.

Mako wipes the mirthful tears out of his eyes. “I think that’s the nicest thing he’s ever said to me.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Wu asks, picking invisible lint off his robes, “I look _classy_. And it’s _Your Highness_! Not _Your Majesty_!”

That’s enough to have Mako in fits again, Wu worriedly poking at him saying, “Mako, it’s not funny. Mako. I haven’t been crowned yet, so I’m still a _prince._ Princes aren’t majesties. Mako, you’re going to strain something if you keep cackling like that. _Mako_.”

…

_Dear Mako,_

_I don’t suppose you have something to do with these headlines about a “non-bender” competing in a mini Rumble in some Earth Kingdom town, sponsored by Tahno? Seriously? I can’t leave you boys alone for five minutes. Bolin’s thinking of helping Kuvira with this whole “unite the Earth Kingdom” nonsense and you’re getting the snot beaten out of you to prove a point! I give up!_

_Opal caught me sleeping under my desk and dragged me back to Air Temple Island so Pema could feed and fuss over me. She’s worried about Su and Zaofu and all the arguments with Kuvira. We all are, but Opal most of all._

_I miss Korra. It’s so easy to feel pessimistic without her here, smiling, ready to take on the world. You know what I mean. Korra inspires people like us. Or at least, she inspires me. Senna says progress is good. Whatever that means._

_Stay safe,_

_Asami_

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have got to stop giving Mako head injuries.


	5. The Fortune Teller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Asami,  
> Never trust a fortune teller.  
> Also, volcano spirits are stubborn brats.  
> Mako  
> P.S. Wu wants me to tell you I’m fine because apparently my notes are ‘vague and misleading’ and ‘too brief’. Well I’d like to see him fit more than a few lines on postcard. 
> 
> In Which Our Heroes Are Still Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR YOUR LOVELY COMMENTS AND KUDOS!

**The Fortune Teller**

_Dear Asami,_

_Never trust a fortune teller._

_Also, volcano spirits are stubborn brats._

_Mako_

_P.S. Wu wants me to tell you I’m fine because apparently my notes are ‘vague and misleading’ and ‘too brief’. Well I’d like to see him fit more than a few lines on postcard. _

…

Mako has a sneaking suspicion they’re getting farther and farther away from their destination the more they travel. He has nothing to back this up as he no longer has his map or the jacket it was tucked into, but it feels accurate considering they are now somewhere in the mountains, but not any mountains he recognizes.

“Mako! Mako!” Wu practically shouts from the dressing rooms. This is the third store they’ve been to (all boutiques, all with ludicrous prices for _clothes_ , of all things. Admittedly, their expulsion from the first boutique might have less to do with them and more to do with Mako yelling “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” the minute he caught sight of a price tag.).

“You’d better be dying this time,” Mako grumbles from the bench he’s been sitting at for the last half hour.

Wu sticks his head out from behind the curtained dressing area, “I patiently waited while you tried on boots for an hour, you can give me your opinion on jade vs. forest green outerwear.”

“I keep telling you, they both look green to me.”

“It’s about _shade_ and _base color_ , Mako.”

Wu flicks back the curtain and emerges, giving a little twirl to show off his new ensemble.

“Looks great. Can we go now?”

“Boots. Hour. I deserve some feedback,” Wu huffs.

In Mako’s defense, good quality boots can make or break a quick getaway, boots are an investment, cheap shoes are a good way to lose your footing at the worst possible moment and die horribly, arch support is important…who is he kidding, Wu stopped listening the minute he started talking.

Wu twirls again, this time slower. He’s updated his wardrobe considerably. Gone are the heavy, trailing robes, replaced with narrow trousers in dark (forest, apparently) green, a pale green-blue shirt (seafoam green…or something), a vest of some sort in slightly-less dark (jade? Maybe?) green with bronze (ish? Mako is running out of colors, here) fittings, and a still-less-dark-than-dark green jacket over it all (Mako once made the mistake of asking why ‘leaf green’ was even a shade when all leaves are green and got a lecture of color theory and gardening for his troubles).

The jacket is embroidered with stylized clouds in pale green thread because of course it is.

All in all, it’s a flattering outfit in colors that suit Wu nicely. Mako has no idea how to say that without sounding sarcastic, so he just nods. “Looks good.”

“Hmm,” Wu hums, “I’m not sold on the embroidery.”

Upon consideration, the combination of all those greens and Wu’s apparent inability to sit still for more than half a minute remind Mako of light filtering through the leaves on the trees in the park on summer days when it was warm enough for him and Bolin to sleep there. It’s…nice.

Well. Mako is definitely not going to say _that._

Telling someone they look like light trickling through the trees in one of the few happy memories you have from your incredibly traumatic childhood is not really normal behavior. Mako has a very limited sample size on ‘normal behavior’ but comparing someone to comforting foliage is definitely not it.

“Oh, clouds are very important to us here,” a salesgirl says, popping out of nowhere suddenly enough Mako actually startles a little.

Wu doesn’t even twitch, which is just typical.

“Really?” he asks, tilting his head curiously.

The girl nods eagerly, “The local fortuneteller can determine the future just based on the clouds. She’s very famous. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of her!”

“We’re from Republic City,” Mako interjects before Wu can blurt out he’s a prince.

“Oh, that explains it,” the girl rolls her eyes, “Everyone knows you’re raised to be skeptics.”

Well. That was a bit insulting.

“But Aunt Meng is the real deal!” she continues, “She learned everything she knows from the legendary Aunt Wu!”

“Aunt _who_?” Wu asks, looking a little offended that someone would dare have the same name as him.

“No, Aunt _Wu,_ ” the girl stresses. “The famous fortuneteller who saved the village from a volcano with her prognostic powers when Avatar Aang visited 70 years ago!”

“Well I’ve never heard of her,” Mako says, unimpressed.

The girl huffs at him, “Well, you _should_. It’s common _knowledge_.”

“Can’t be that common,” Mako grumbles.

“You should visit Aunt Meng while you’re here,” the girl says, turning her full attention on Wu. “And see Aunt Wu’s memorial! Maybe she’ll see something interesting in your future!”

Wu blinks, “I didn’t know there were real fortunetellers.”

“There aren’t,” Mako says bluntly, just as the salesgirl simultaneously says “There’s Aunt Meng!”

They glare at each other unrepentantly.

“Fortunetellers are just people who look at clients, make a couple informed guesses, say some vague things and take your money. ‘Fortunetelling’ is a scam. Trust me,” Mako glares.

“Maybe you’ll see a happy future, where you finally ditch the bity-city skeptic,” the girl mutters to Wu under her breath.

“Ok,” Wu claps his hands together, “Well, if it’s a piece of local lore, I’ll take the cloud coat. And all the rest of it! Always like clothes with a good story to go with them!”

Mako pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, wonderful!” the girl enthuses, “And here, with your purchase you get a coupon for two free readings with Aunt Meng!”

“Of course, we do,” Mako sighs.

…

“You didn’t have to be so rude to her, you know,” Wu huffs as they head back to their hotel. “This fortuneteller story is obviously very important to these people.”

Mako sighs, “I hate fortunetellers. Half the time they’re crooks.”

“You know,” Wu observes, “You could stand to work on your smile and nod skills.”

“I’m sorry, my what?”

Wu smiles, “See, smile…” his smile brightens, “and nod,” he nods thoughtfully like he’s really appreciating and considering something. “See? It makes people feel listened to and valued and means you don’t have to actually say anything if you think they’re stupid or annoying. Now, you try. Smile…”

Mako attempts a smile.

“Okay. Less ‘dragon about to eat a helpless koala-sheep’.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Just…minimize the death-glare.”

Mako’s entire face reverts back to neutral-scowl.

“Alright, we’ve gone too far in the opposite direction. Come on, I know you can smile! I’ve seen it! Come on…where’s cute, happy, smiley Mako?”

“Nonexistent. I’m not cute.”

“Agree to disagree, my cantankerous friend.”

Mako wishes they hadn’t left Pabu at the hotel. Pabu is loyal. He’d take Mako’s side.

On further consideration, no, Pabu is a traitor and will definitely side with Prince I-steal-people’s-pets-with-my-mushy-compliments-and-secret-stashes-of-treats Wu.

Ugh.

…

They’re eating lunch when the ground rumbles and the light turns a sickly, jaundiced yellow. Wu’s dumpling drops from his chopsticks in surprise, his chopsticks soon following as he lets them go in order to clutch at Mako’s arm. Mako, already halfway out of his seat, looks down to see the prince’s green eyes gone wide as he stares up at him.

“I’ll be right back,” Mako finds himself reassuring the other man.

“Okay,” Wu peels his fingers away from Mako’s sleeve a little sheepishly.

Mako makes his way across the restaurant, where the other patrons seem…disturbingly unconcerned with the sounds coming from outside.

“What’s happening?” he asks the seating hostess when he reaches the front of the restaurant.

“Oh, it’s just the volcano being temperamental,” the woman, who looks about Lin’s age but is built along softer, less reassuringly severe lines, assures him, “Nothing to worry about, sweetie.”

Mako hates being called ‘sweetie,’ but he’ll table that annoyance for when there isn’t ash falling from the sky. “Shouldn’t you evacuate or something?” His experience with volcanoes is limited, but he knows lava is not something to take lightly. Ever.

“Oh, no,” the woman waves away his concern. She looks seconds away from pinching his cheeks. Mako takes a half-step back just in case she gets ideas. “This sort of thing’s been happening every few days since that Harmonic Convergence nonsense a little bit ago. Aunt Meng says it’s nothing to worry about, and Aunt Meng is never wrong!”

Well that’s. Terrifying.

“Oh. Well. If the fortuneteller says we won’t all die a fiery death,” Mako says dryly.

“That’s the spirit, sweetie,” the woman says, completely missing the point.

Mako goes back to the table.

“Apparently they’ve been experiencing consistent, random volcanic activity since Harmonic Convergence,” Mako says flatly.

Wu’s eyebrows pull together fretfully, “Why haven’t they all fled? Or gone underground? You know what the badgermoles say: ‘when the surface gets dangerous, go underground!’.”

There are a lot of things wrong with that statement, starting with the fact that Wu apparently thinks badgermole sounds translate into really weird life advice, and ending with the fact that going underground while chased by hot lava is a terrible idea. Mako decides to address the most important thing and go from there. “Don’t go underground when lava is chasing you. That just makes it easier for the lava to pin you down and kill you.”

“Lava isn’t sentient, Mako.”

“Which one of us has been chased by lava?”

Wu gives him a long look, head slowly tilting to the side like a quizzical polar bear dog. “Is that a metaphor…?”

“No.”

“…Then I’m going to assume it’s you.”

“Yes.”

“Wowza. You’re like a mover hero!”

“That is not the take away here.”

The rumbling outside tapers off and the light begins to brighten back to normal levels.

Everyone in the café erupts into spontaneous applause, as if the volcano had been putting on a children’s music recital, and not threatening to burn the flesh from their bones in a river of magma. Applause given; they return to their meals.

Mako levels Wu with a look. “Volcanoes don’t just stop like that.”

“Maybe it was just cranky.”

“Maybe we should tell this fortuneteller to evacuate her town before their stupidity gets them cooked alive.”

“Ooh, we can use our coupons!”

…

Aunt Meng’s home is large and beautiful, complete with a guard in uniform stationed outside her door. It’s even more gorgeous inside, with high ceilings and lovely antiques everywhere. The street kid in the back of Mako’s mind is mentally calculating how much some of the knickknacks alone would go for and how likely this Aunt Meng character is to notice they’re gone.

No.

He’s a grown-up who doesn’t steal from people.

He’s a responsible, law-abiding citizen with a good job.

He has a place to live and food to eat and the residual tangle of hunger-anger-fear that never shuts up in the back of his mind can take a fucking hike.

He doesn’t think about the fact that he’s going back to a sleeping bag under his desk and friends and family that love his charming, sweet, big-hearted lug of a baby brother more than him. (he knows what he’s good for and its nothing they want or need, not really).

Wu sneezes and sniffles next to him, “Oh, do you think I’m allergic to ash, Mako?” And the prince is dabbing at his nose delicately with a handkerchief of all things, and Mako is abruptly dumped out of his dark mood at utter absurdity that is the man beside him.

“No, Wu, you aren’t allergic to ash. It makes everyone cough and sneeze.”

“Hmm, so everyone is a little allergic to ash if you think about it,” Wu says, folding the handkerchief up tidily and tucking it away in some hidden pocket.

“Sure, Wu.”

“I have more handkerchiefs if you need one, Mako. I noticed you didn’t get any for yourself.”

It’s supercilious and high-handed and utterly _ridiculous._ Mako doesn’t know why it makes him smile. “I’m good.”

“If you change your mind, I have ones with little flowers on them.”

“Not really a selling point, Wu.”

“If your status as a scary tough-guy is that threatened by a floral hankie, you aren’t as tough as I thought.”

“I don’t need a hankie. Floral or otherwise.”

“I’m just saying~”

…

They’re left waiting in Aunt Meng’s entry hall by the guard, who informs them that “she’s with a client right now, but she’ll be with you as soon as she can,” all the while looking very perturbed at their lack of proper appointments. Wu soothes what ruffled feathers he can (or ruffles more, it’s something of a toss-up with Wu) while Mako wanders around the space.

The walls are tastefully decorated with elegant, understated art for the most part, with the exception of one corner that is absolutely stuffed with framed pictures of people, ranging from faded sketches to delicate ink paintings to recent photographs. To Mako’s surprise, Avatar Aang even makes an appearance in a few, although he doesn’t know why he’s so startled to see Korra’s past life grinning at the camera. The older images mostly focus on drawings of an older woman with an elaborate hairdo dramatically declaiming something while holding her hands skyward. This must be the former fortuneteller, Aunt Wu. Mako isn’t sure how his Wu will feel about his namesake. The later pictures show first a girl, then a woman, then an elderly grandmother who must be this so-called ‘Aunt Meng’, Aunt Wu’s successor. There’s even a row of wedding images featuring a steadily aging Meng and a succession of men with unusually large ears.

“Those are my husbands,” a creaky voice says beside him and Mako looks down to see an old woman smiling up at him, showing off a gap between her front teeth. “Aunt Wu did say I’d marry a man with large ears. Pity they kept on dying on me.”

“You must be Aunt Meng,” Mako says.

“And you must be here to do something about that volcano we’ve been having trouble with.”

“How did you know?” Mako asks.

She shrugs, “Well, someone was going to come deal with it eventually. And I remember my granddaughter reading an article in the paper about how the new Avatar and her friends saved Republic City awhile back. You look just like the young man in the picture.”

“What does that have to do with the volcano?”

“Well, Aang helped us out last time. Seems fitting we’d have a little Avatar-assistance again.” She winks at him. “And I do see the future, you know.”

“Uh-huh.”

She sighs, “Of course the Avatar would send her skeptic. I don’t know why I bother.”

“Are you Aunt Meng?” Wu asks, zipping over to bow elegantly over her hand and kiss her knuckles, “A pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a fine and talented lady.”

Aunt Meng pats him on the head, “Oh, dear. You aren’t meant for me. I only marry men with big ears, I’m afraid. Save your charm for your future someone.” She winks at Mako again and he can only conclude she has some kind of tic in that eye.

Wu laughs, “Charm? Whatever do you mean? I simply recognize radiance when I see it.”

“How are you this charming with old ladies but regularly get drinks dumped on you by women your own age?” Mako asks the ceiling.

“I have no idea what you mean, big guy.”

“Of course, you don’t.”

“Now, Lady Aunt Meng, I have some coupons and am _dying_ to know what my future holds.”

…

“I can’t believe you got your fortune read _before_ we climbed the mountain to deal with the volcano.”

“You’re just mad because I know something you don’t know.”

“I know lots of things you don’t know, so we’re even.”

“Ah, but do you know the _future,_ Mako?”

“I know our future is going to involve a lot more lava if you don’t hurry up.”

“So bossy and demanding. I’m a _prince._ I’m not _made_ for _physical exertion._ ”

“Lord Zuko was fighting anarchists two months ago and he’s in his eighties. Stop whining.”

…

Mako has to admit, the rim of the volcano is actually pretty beautiful. There are panda lilies in full bloom at their feet and the whole valley spread out like a lush green carpet below them. Of course, the view is spoiled a bit by the bickering coming from inside the crater.

_“Stop touching me!”_

_“I’m not touching you!”_

_“Stay on your side of the crater!”_

_“I AM on my side of the crater! You’re just being greedy!”_

_“STOP TOUCHING ME!”_

_“I’M NOT TOUCHING YOU!”_

A cloud of smoke and sparks puffs up from the crater as the argument escalates. Mako and Wu creep up to peer over the lip to look down and see…two bipedal orange spirits, both about the size and shape of Meelo, with curls of reddish flame instead of hair throwing molten rock at each other and stomping their feet like children.

Mako blinks and looks at Wu. Wu looks right back at him. The volcano spirits continue to argue. They’re shoving each other now. The angrier they get, the paler their flame-colored bodies go until their hair…fire? Fire hair? Glows blue at the roots.

“Wow,” Wu says, “I’ve never met spirits like these before.”

The lava beneath their feet rolls restlessly and Mako is reminded of a game he, Korra, Asami, and Bolin used to play in Asami’s pool. They’d pair off into teams where one person sat on another’s shoulders. The partner acting as the base had to hold still while the person on their shoulders tried to push the other shoulder-sitter into the pool. Korra always won because she knew where Asami was ticklish and would go in for the kill when she was losing. This…looks a lot like that except with only two players who are both trying to shove each other into roiling, steaming magma.

And the magma seems to be getting more and more antsy the longer and louder the spirits argue.

_“THIS IS MY VOLCANO; I CAN DO WHAT I WANT IN IT!”_ yells one spirit.

_“IT WAS MY VOLCANO FIRST!”_ protests the other.

A spout of lava spits up restlessly before settling down with a gurgle.

“We should split them up, right?” Wu says quietly. “Before they literally tear the mountain apart? Right?”

“Any ideas how to do that?” Mako mutters back.

“I could sing to them?”

“Cool, awesome, draw their anger towards _you_ , the squishy human very vulnerable to lava. That’s a great idea.”

“I could do without the sarcasm, mister.”

Mako sighs. “Let me try something.”

“What?” Wu asks, but Mako is already standing up and holding out his arms.

Their first winter on the streets, Mako and Bolin nearly died. It was just so cold and there was nothing they could do to stay warm. They stuffed their shoes and jackets with newspapers, but Mako’s clothes were already getting too small for him and there was only so much they could steal. Bolin was shivering all the time and they were hungry, so hungry.

And Mako discovered something about fire bending.

Fire comes from the breath. Fire carries heat. If he can bend fire…why couldn’t he bend heat as well?

So, he spent every night that winter wrapping Bolin up in arms and breathing deep and slow to kindle the heat in both their bodies. If they were lucky enough to be near a fire, he could sometimes pull heat from that and infuse it into Bolin’s tiny body directly.

When the shack they were sleeping in one year nearly burned down because of some careless hobos, Mako drained the heat from the fire enough to smother it before immediately passing out. He hadn’t figured out how to pass the heat _through_ his body instead of just pulling it into him yet. But he learned.

It was never flashy or impressive. It’s not redirecting lightning, or lava-bending. But it kept them alive when nothing else could and for that Mako is proud.

He’s never done it on this scale before, but as soon as one of the spirits scoops up a lump of lava and hurls it at the other spirit, Mako reaches out and _yanks_ all the heat out of it until it’s just a piece of shiny, black rock that bounces off the second spirit with a hollow clunking noise.

“CUT IT OUT,” Mako yells at them, sweat pouring down his face as he redirects the heat from the lava out into the air and away from his internal organs. No thanks, he would _not_ like to be cooked alive today.

_“A human?”_ the second lava spirit, still rubbing its head, looks up at him.

_“What are you doing here, human?”_ snaps the first spirit. _“Get lost.”_

“NOT UNTIL YOU LEARN TO SHARE AND STOP SPITTING SMOKE AND ASH EVERYWHERE,” Mako snaps.

_“No one asked for your opinion, human!”_ huffs the first spirit. _“This is a spirit matter! Butt out!”_

“AND NO ONE ASKED FOR BUCKETS OF ASH AND CHOKING SMOKE ALL OVER THEIR TOWN, SO I GUESS WE’RE EVEN!” Mako yells back.

_“They’re shouldn’t have put a town next to my volcano!”_ the second spirit complains.

_“YOUR volcano?”_ objects the first spirit.

Mako has to move very quickly to drag the heat out of the next fistful of lava.

_“Stop! Doing! That!”_ yowls the first spirit.

Mako sways on his feet, feeling flushed and a little dizzy. Channeling this much heat while standing next to a crater full of magma is making him woozy.

“Whoa, there,” Wu ducks under his arm, helping him stay on his feet. “So, spirits, what seems to be the problem? Why are you throwing lava at each other?”

_“I used to live in this volcano before the Avatar closed the spirit portals,”_ explains the second spirit.

_“No, I used to live in this volcano. You lived in the one over there. The dead one.”_

_“No, this is my volcano! You’re the interloper from the dead one!”_

Mako reaches out, ready to drag the heat out of yet another clump of lava.

“No, stop that, you’ll give yourself a stroke,” Wu chides, “Let me talk to them.”

“No singing,” Mako huffs.

“Shush, you.” Wu turns his attention back to the spirits. “So you’re trying to share and it’s not going well?”  
_“You don’t know the half of it, buddy,_ ” the first spirit drawls.

“Well, why don’t you tell me about it. Maybe I can help you work things out.”

_“Just keep your fire bender away from our lava. I don’ t like him turning it into rocks like that,”_ complains the second.

_“In my day, fire benders stuck to fire. None of this messing with lava nonsense,”_ agrees the first spirit.

“I’m not doing anything to the lava,” Mako tries to explain, but Wu pats him on the head and shushes him again.

“Stop trying to give yourself heat stroke and let me talk to the spirits.”

…

Wu brokers a peace deal between the spirits.

Mako has no idea how that happened.

One minute they’re chatting (‘building a rapport,’ as Wu put it) the next Wu is telling some embarrassing story about their (Mako and Wu’s) first few days of cohabitation and the spirits are nodding along and looking more than a little shame-faced for how they’ve behaved.

_“We don’t have to live in volcanos,”_ one of them explained, _“But we like them. They’re warm and cozy and keep the humans away. Humans are very loud. But we like this world. So we thought we’d visit.”_

_“But it turns out,”_ the other continued, _“That a lot has changed in the last 10,000 years. Our two volcanos are gone, and only this one remains.”_

Wu had suggested a new arrangement. “If you don’t have to live in a volcano, what if you had a time share dealy-o? One of you gets it half the year and the other travels, sees the world and what’s changed. And when the seasons turn you switch places. And, if you decide you’ve missed each other, you can stay here together whenever you want and catch up on all the new things you’ve seen in the world.”

The spirits somehow agree to this.

They also agree not to harass the town, which is nice.

They send Wu and Mako off with heaps of praise for Wu. Mako they each throw a rock at to make up for his trick with the lava earlier. They miss each time, which they say was on purpose because they didn’t want to ‘bruise his squishy human body and disappoint the Human Negotiator.’

Mako really just wants to get back to the hotel, drink a dozen glasses of water, and take a long nap. In the shade.

…

Aunt Meng catches Mako before they leave. Wu is distracted trying to put a tiny coat decorated with tiny embroidered clouds onto Pabu while Mako purchases train tickets (here’s hoping they get them even a little bit closer to where they need to go).

“Hello, Mako,” the old lady says with a big smile.

“If you want to talk to Wu again, he’s over there making a fire ferret’s life difficult,” Mako says.

“No, I wanted to speak to you.”

Never a good sign, but Mako will bite. “About what?”

“I know you don’t believe in what I do, so I won’t give you a fortune, but I will hand out some free advice.”

Mako is keeping half an eye on the ferret vs. jacket proceedings. So far Pabu has evaded Wu’s attempts, but he can’t run forever, and he’s weak to bribery. “Mmhmm.”

“I see great love in your future if you aren’t too stubborn to let it reach for you.”

Pabu has escaped to the top of Wu’s head and the prince is shouting about his hair.

“What do you mean?” Mako asks.

“I can tell you’re the kind of person who thinks love only means sacrifice. That to love someone is to give them the parts of yourself you think they need or want and stay silent about the rest. Everything else you keep under lock and key, somewhere deep down where they won’t find it. You have to allow the people who love you to know you, all of you, or they’ll always feel a million miles away. You have to trust they’ll treat you with care too.”

“They don’t want to know all of me,” Mako says without thinking.

“How do you know that?” Aunt Meng asks.

“Trust me. I know.”

“Oh, Mako,” Aunt Meng says. “The problem is, you don’t trust yourself to be worth loving. And that makes me sad. I hope he proves you wrong.”

“What?” Mako turnst to argue with the old woman, but she just squeezes his arm and turns away.

“Your journey will be longer than you expect it to be, dear. Pack extra clothes!” she calls as she walks off.

“AH-HA!” Wu exclaims behind him. Mako turns around to see Pabu wearing a tiny green coat. “Doesn’t he look fashionable? Oh, hey, was that Aunt Meng?”

“Yeah,” Mako says, “She said to have a safe trip.”

Wu squints suspiciously, then shrugs, “Got those train tickets, buddy? I’m hoping this one has a nice dining car.”

Mako crooks a smile, “I’d settle for no cabbages.”

…

_Dear Mako,_

_You can’t just make vague comments about volcanoes and give no further information! Your snarky P.S is longer than your actual message! You’re going to raise my blood pressure!_

_Speaking of rising blood pressure, the air benders asked me to help them develop some kind of flight suit so they can have glider wings attached to their bodies somehow for easy access. It’s been a blast designing it, but I swear I have a heart attack every time Jinora jumps off of some tall thing with no parachute just to test a prototype._

_Senna says Korra misses us, but I don’t know how much of that is Senna trying to make me feel better. Maybe I’m writing her too frequently._

_Miss all of you,_

_Asami_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Aunt Meng is Meng, the girl who worked for Aunt Wu. I just really like the idea of her growing up to be the "new Wu" in that little town.


	6. Spirits and Swamps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Asami,   
> I fell in a swamp. Bad things happened. I met a legend.   
> I need a nap.   
> Mako  
> P.S. Prince Wu here, Mako fell asleep writing this postcard, hence the smudges. When I tried to wake him, he threw the pen at me and told me to go away. So, I’m going ahead and mailing this before some other misfortune befalls it.   
> …  
> Dear Asami,   
> Ignore whatever Wu put in the postscript on the last postcard. Royals are clearly completely untrustworthy.   
> Mako

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR YOUR COMMENTS, YOU KEEP ME INSPIRED!
> 
> Mild content warning for this chapter - discussions of Mako and Bolin's parents' canonical murder, references to canonical past violence. Nothing graphic, I would say canon-typical. Also, content warning for spirit swamp hallucinations. The swamp is not to be trusted.

**Spirits and Swamps**

_Dear Asami,_

_I fell in a swamp. Bad things happened. I met a legend._

_I need a nap._

_Mako_

**_P.S. Prince Wu here, Mako fell asleep writing this postcard, hence the smudges. When I tried to wake him, he threw the pen at me and told me to go away. So, I’m going ahead and mailing this before some other misfortune befalls it._ **

…

_Dear Asami,_

_Ignore whatever Wu put in the postscript on the last postcard. Royals are clearly completely untrustworthy._

_Mako_

…

“Oh, you don’t want a room on the east side of the hotel,” the receptionist assures him and Mako is about ready to just say screw it and find a nice doorway to nap in. It’ll be a bit of an adjustment for Prince I-know-my-preferred-sheet-thread-count, but he’ll cope.

“Why not?” Mako asks, straining for patience.

“Because that side faces the _swamp_ ,” the receptionist stresses.

“And what’s wrong with the swamp?”

“It’s haunted,” the receptionist says bluntly.

Mako stares at her. The receptionist stares back. She’s wearing huge gold earrings that keep moving with every gesture. Pabu’s head is moving in time with the earrings, his little black eyes tracking them with unnerving intensity. Mako scoops Pabu off the desk as a preventative measure. He really doesn’t want to be thrown out of the only hotel in town due to a fire ferret related incident.

“You mean spirits live there…?” Mako asks, “Because we’re fine with spirits.”

“Well,” the woman hedges, “Spirits _do_ live there, but so do ghosts.”

“ _Ghosts_?” Wu says at Mako’s shoulder, where he’s wandered back from perusing the racks of travel brochures on the opposite wall.

The receptionist nods solemnly, “And ghouls.”

“ _Ghouls_?” Wu is clutching Mako’s arm now and Mako bites the inside of his cheek in order not to give in to the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Mako sighs, “Or ghouls.”

“Whether or not you believe is your business,” the receptionist says, holding up her hands in the universal signal for ‘some people just can’t be helped,’ “But people disappear into the swamps and they don’t come back in one piece. Or at all.”

“Mako, I don’t want to disappear,” Wu says.

“You won’t disappear.”

“How can you know that?”

“You’re too annoying to disappear. I’d hear you shrieking and come find you.”

“You know, your words are hurtful, but your tone is very comforting.”

Mako sighs. He seems to do that a lot these days.

“Are there rooms anywhere else in this building?” Mako asks.

“No.”

“Just rooms on the eastern side?”

“The side facing the haunted swamp? Yes,” the receptionist nods. 

“So, give us one of those rooms.”

“And have you two disappear and come back as ghosts to haunt us? No thank you,” the receptionist objects.

“If I come back as a malicious ghost, your hotel is so far down the list of places I’d haunt, it’s not even funny,” Mako deadpans.

“You’ve thought about this before?” Wu squints at him.

Mako shrugs. “I think I’d be a very effective poltergeist.”

Wu does not seem to know what to do with that information.

The receptionist is staring at him helplessly.

“Eastern rooms or I’m sleeping in your lobby and letting the fire ferret chew on the upholstery,” Mako says.

The receptionist gives them keys to eastern rooms.

…

They end up in a suite because Wu insists. Mako really could not care less. He just wants a reasonably soft flat surface to sleep on.

“Mako, sit up, your nice new clothes are going to wrinkle if you don’t unpack.”

“No,” Mako grumbles into the pillow he has unceremoniously smushed his face into. “They’re two weeks old, they’re not new anymore.”

“They still shouldn’t be allowed to get wrinkly.”

“Go away.”

It’s a sign of how tired they all are that Pabu actually takes his side on this, chirruping sleepily and curling up on the other pillow. Across the room, Wu huffs and sets about unpacking his own bags.

“Just go to sleep,” Mako grumbles.

“Mako, dear, some of us have to work to look good. It is a matter of professional princely pride that I am attired excellently in all circumstances. Excellent attire is un-wrinkled attire.”

He probably says more, but Mako’s already asleep.

…

He wakes up several hours later to an open window and a very distressed fire ferret chattering in his face. For a strange second it’s like the last few months never even happened. He’s back in Zaofu, running from the Red Lotus, and Zaheer is trying to steal Korra away. But when he opens his eyes, he doesn’t see Bolin, he sees Pabu and a strange hotel room that definitely isn’t in Zaofu, and an open closet full of tidily hung green clothing. He blinks and looks over at the other bed. It’s empty.

No sound from the bathroom.

No light in the living room.

An empty bed and an open window.

“Vaatu’s slimy arse, the haunted swamp actually stole the prince,” Mako swears.

…

The one advantage to staying in a hotel on the outskirts of town, on the eastern side which faces nothing but a stretch of soft grassland which eventually fades into first forest, then swamp, is that it’s fairly easy to see where your wayward companion has wandered off to. Between the open window and the line of footprints in the marshy field, the trail is not exactly a head-scratcher.

Mako is, for once, glad he fell asleep in his clothes, although he’s in for a surprise when his feet touch ground and he realizes that Wu must have taken his shoes off for him when he fell asleep.

“Is that sweet or creepy?” he asks Pabu.

The fire ferret squeaks ambiguously at him.

“We’ll go with ‘weird but considerate’ for now.”

Bolin must never know he talks to Pabu now.

He pulls on his older pair of boots, glad he kept them even after buying a new pair. (Take that Wu, he’s not a hoarder, he’s saving things to use later.) He doesn’t want to risk ruining a pair of quality shoes by dunking them in the swamp.

Appropriately attired again, he slips out the window and after the footprints.

Pabu chirrs uneasily and digs sharp little nails into his shoulder.

“Come on, let’s go get our prince back.”

…

Mako knows that supposedly haunted swamps are unnerving. Creepy ambiance is part of being supposedly haunted, after all. But still, this is a bit much.

Mako had refused to stay with Pema and Tenzin after his apartment was destroyed partially due to lingering awkwardness with Korra and Asami (who were apparently completely over it, because normal people don’t obsess over everything they’ve ever done wrong in every social situation ever, which was news to him, but whatever). But also because he’s secretly never liked sleeping on Air Temple Island.

It’s too quiet. It’s quiet in the way all those little towns they visited when they were traveling the Earth Kingdom looking for air benders are quiet. It’s quiet in an unsettling, anticipatory way. Mako can’t calm down in that kind of quiet. It makes him jumpy, like someone’s going to show up and attack him at any second. Like something or someone is about to explode.

Mako likes city noise. He likes shouts and laughter and music trickling out of windows and doorways. He likes the rumble of Sato-mobiles and the buzz of streetlights overhead. He likes being a single thread in a tapestry of sound.

The swamp has its own blanket of noise, but it’s not like the city. It’s heavier, meatier, like a sweaty fist wrapping around him and squeezing. It’s slithering creatures just out of sight and strange, croaking noises and shrieking birdcalls and something wet and slimy just…breathing somewhere.

It’s like walking down a cat-gator’s throat and hoping it won’t bite down.

It makes him want a damn shower.

There are flickers of light in his peripheral vision, like spirits ducking in and out of sight like children playing hide and seek. And no matter where he points the handful of fire he’s using to light his way, he never catches sight of anything.

“Wu?” he calls, hating the way his voice sounds as it cuts through the waterlogged air. “Wu?”

Some creature deep in the swamp imitates the sound of Wu’s name, croaking “Woooo, wooo, woooah,” at him.

“Okay. That’s…really creepy.”

Pabu chitters agreement on his shoulder.

The tracks have changed as the ground has gotten wetter – some are deep where the ground is soft, but not too muddy for an impression, while others are barely there where the ground is harder or totally submerged.

“HEY!” Mako yells at the swamp, “HAUNTED SWAMP!”

The imitation creature croaks back “ha-ha-ha-ha-swa-swa-swa.”

Mako elects to ignore this, “YOU HAVE MY –” what is Wu to him? A job? A friend? A social barnacle who’s apparently attached himself to Mako’s life on a semi-permanent basis? “COMPANION,” well, that sounds sketchy, but it’s better than the barnacle thing, “AND I WANT HIM BACK!”

The swamp continues to seethe around him and give exactly zero help.

Typical.

Pabu growls at something off to the side and Mako whirls around to be confronted with…nothing. Not even a twitching bush.

“It’s fine, Pabu,” he’s assuring the ferret, “nothing –”

And that’s when a wave of fire slams into his back.

Mako whirls, gathering his own flames in his hands, Pabu shrieking on his shoulders, feet planted, hands up, ready to face a new threat when he sees…nothing again.

“What in Raava’s name?” he blinks. He dims his own fire back down to what it was and pats himself down with his other hand, checking for scorch marks and or burns, or, really anything to indicate what just happened was real.

Nothing.

“I don’t like this, Pabu,” he says.

But they have to find Wu, and he’s obviously somewhere in this swamp, so Mako keeps moving forward.

…

The whispering starts at he keeps going.

It’s faint at first, but the more steps he takes, the more clearly he can make out voices, words, things long forgotten.

_“We’ve already paid the protection money.”_

_“That was when your little shop was in Triple Threat Territory. You’re under the Agni Kais now. Things have changed.”_

_“We don’t have anything to give you.”_

_“Well, that sounds like a personal problem to me.”_

Mako shakes his head. “No.” He doesn’t want to hear this. “Fuck off, swamp. You can’t get to me.”

The whispers build. No wonder everyone says this place is haunted. In a way, it is.

_“If you don’t have the money, I’m sure we can find some other way for you to pay us.”_

_“What? No, you –”_

_“Aww, look at the family picture. Your wife sure is pretty…”_

_“You leave my wife out of this.”_

_“Two children…cute kids…be a shame if something were to happen to them. What school are they at? Maybe we could say hello.”_

_“STAY AWAY FROM MY FAMILY.”_

Mako’s eyes are burning. The fire flares in his hands, flickering white-hot. He’d been at his parents’ shop that afternoon. He’d been sent home early from school for fighting. One of the boys in his class called him a nasty name. Said everyone knew fire benders were violent psychos and no-good criminals. Mako had gotten angry. He’d punched the other boy. The other boy was bigger than him and when he’d punched back it _hurt._

His mother had brought him to the shop and taken him upstairs to the office to get cleaned up. She’d told him she loved him and that fire wasn’t just for hurting, fire was life. She told him stories about Fire Lord Zuko and the Sun Warriors and told him to be proud of his element.

She’d run downstairs when the crashing started.

_“Back away from my husband.”_

_“She’s even prettier in person.”_

_“Back. Away. Now.”_

When the Republic City Fire Department arrived, the shop was in flames. The second story’s floor had fallen in. Ash was all around and Mako was curled into a ball, using his bending to keep the flames away, screaming for his parents. He’d bit and clawed and tried to burn the rescue workers. He’d bolted the second he was outside, away from their grasping hands and worried faces and questions, questions, questions.

He’d run all the way to Bolin’s school, where he’d collapsed.

The swamp’s whispers have faded into a blur again, and he wants to scream because for years his parents’ voices, the rhythm they spoke with, have faded, faded, faded until there’s nothing left, and now he’s hearing them again but in all the worst ways.

He scrubs at his face with his free hand and looks up to see Amon.

Full of grief and rage, old wounds bleeding sluggishly inside him where he’d hastily taped them up and left them to fester long ago, he roars at the specter and flings a wave of fire at him.

Amon flickers and disappears, replaced with a crowd of sneering gangsters, the kind who used to try to rough them up to show off how tough they were. Mako hurls fire at that mirage too.

Next is Bolin, a tiny child again, shivering, his lips turning blue. Mako runs to him, forgetting this is all in the past, this is all some sick, swamp-induced fever dream. He reaches from his brother, tries to warm him, to wake him up, but all he sees is a ball of all-consuming flame.

He blinks and he’s back in the cavern where he electrocuted Ming Hua. He’s in prison in Republic City. He’s in prison in the Earth Kingdom. He sees Korra, lying still and unresponsive on the ground. He sees Bolin again, every time his brother has ever suffered and Mako hadn’t been able to make it better. He sees Asami looking lost and hurt. He sees Korra screaming in agony, and the Chief’s face, stone cold and contemptuous as a voice like an amalgamation of everyone he’s ever cared about says _“What’s the point of you? You ruin everything you touch..”_

It’s too much. It’s all too much.

His knees hit the ground and he gestures sharply, swirling a vortex of white-gold flame around him like a chrysalis, like a shield. He’s always envied the way that Bolin can build walls from nothing. But that’s Bolin all over. He’s the builder. He repairs things. Relationships, families, people. Mako is a creature built for attacking. Bolin is a defender.

Pabu chirrs mournfully, rubbing his little furry face against Mako’s cheek. Around them, fire swirls and finally the visions and the whispering stop.

Mako’s eyes are somehow still dry. Maybe he really did forget how to cry all those years ago. Maybe there’s a lifetime allotment of tears and he used all his up early and gave the rest to Bolin.

He rests his forehead on his knees and tries to get his breathing under control. He tries to remember what he used to tell Bolin all the time. “We’re survivors. We always fight.”

He can imagine Bolin pouting and saying “But couldn’t we just hug it out?” and laughing when Mako rolls his eyes at him. He can imagine Wu waving his hands around and saying “Well, big guy, I’m a lover, not a fighter, so that’s right out…”

Wu. He’s here to find Wu.

Mako can have his breakdown later. He has a prince to find.

He jerks his hands and tears the fire cyclone open, flames blasting outward and dissipating. He stands.

“Okay, swamp,” he says, voice hoarse from choking back whatever the fuck that was, “You’ve had your fun torturing me. Now get me where I need to go or I’m burning you down, one tree at a time.”

…

He walks awhile, the swamp strangely quiescent around him, like a pet that’s realized it maybe shouldn’t have knocked over that heirloom vase on the mantle. He reaches some kind of clearing, only it isn’t a clearing, the brightness from the flame he’s holding has dazzled his eyes enough that he mistakes a body of water for solid ground.

He’s very glad the pond is shallow when he falls into it.

He surfaces, gasping, Pabu squeaking his protests, and claws his way onto a mossy rock in the middle of the pond. Moonlight trickles down from above, the clouds clearing enough for him to see the full moon reflected on the murky water.

Mako runs his hands up and down his face and sighs. He’s so tired. He feels like he’s been tired since the day he was born.

The moon in the water ripples as the pond settles. He looks up, trying to catch a glimpse of the moon itself and is confronted by a girl about Bolin’s age, glowing silver and hovering like…well…a ghost.

“Raava in a teapot. Are ghosts actually real?” he blurts, a little offended at the notion that, on top of everything else, the undead turn out to be a real and pressing issue.

_“I am no ghost, Mako.”_

“Who are you?” he asks.

_“I am…a friend of a friend.”_ She smiles, silver hair and robes flowing around her like water. _“I once knew Avatar Aang. In another life.”_

“Yue?” Mako has heard the story. He’s always liked learning; he’s just never had the chance to do it. He’d been reading Jinora and Tenzin’s books when they were traveling, looking for air benders. He’d been learning about the Hundred Year War and the Earth Kingdom and Avatar Aang and his friends.

The spirit laughs, a delicate little sound. Mako would have called it a polite, royal sort of laugh, but Wu laughs with his whole body, throws back his head and just guffaws like he hasn’t a care in the world. So maybe it isn’t so much a royal thing as a Yue thing. _“It’s been a long time since someone has called me that,_ ” she smiles, _“it is good to hear my old name again.”_

“Why are you here?” Mako asks bluntly, “Wait, sorry. That was. Not good. Um. Why are you appearing to me? I’m just…the fire guy. I’m not the Avatar or anything. I’m just her friend.”

_“I appear to many people who are lost in spirit,”_ Yue says with a smile, _“It is much easier now since Harmonic Convergence. It helps that this is a very spiritual place.”_

“Yeah, I could do with a little less spiritual swamp right now,” Mako grumbles.

_“This swamp resembles the spirit world in many ways,”_ Yue explains, _“In the spirit world, your mental state reflects what you see and feel around you. To an extent, you shape your reality. The swamp is not so direct. It instead reflects part of you that would otherwise remain hidden. Things you did not know you still carried with you. Old wounds, lost loves, things you must confront before you can begin to heal.”_

“I don’t want to confront any of that shit,” Mako complains, knowing he sounds like a petulant child. “I just want to find my friend and go home.”

Oh. Friend. That’s new.

He’ll have to examine that later.

_“The swamp is not always kind,”_ Yue says sadly, _“especially to outsiders. Come with me, I will help you find your…friend.”_ She winks at him, as if she knows he’s just now reluctantly embraced the ‘friend’ label.

Spirits. Can’t beat them, can’t join them. Mako does the next best thing and follows Yue deeper into the swamp.

…

The sky has lightened slightly by the time they arrive at the roots of an enormous tree. _“You’ll find your way from here,”_ Yue tells him, her outline starting to blur as the moon creeps towards the horizon.

“Yue,” Mako says, suddenly struck by an idea.

_“Yes?”_

“Can you visit Korra? When you can? I think…I think meeting you would make her happy. She’s had a hard time recently. She sacrificed herself to save the new air benders and…it’s complicated. But she’s hurting and I think you could help her.”

_“Of course,”_ Yue says, _“It would only be fitting. I’ve watched over her for all these years, after all.”_

“Thank you. For everything.” He bows to her.

_“Life is never as hopeless as you think,”_ Yue says softly, _“Strength can be found in many forms, including the soft and the beautiful. It takes a great deal of strength, don’t you think, to smile, laugh, and sing in the face of losing everything?”_

He opens his mouth to respond, unsure what he could possibly say to that, but between one blink and the next, she’s gone.

He turns around and sees, tucked into the curve of a tree root, legs curled up against his chest, covered in mud, arms wrapped around himself, sound asleep, is Prince Wu.

“There you are,” Mako mutters, climbing up to sit next to the prince. “Hey, hey. Wu. Wake up,” he shakes the prince’s shoulder gently.

Wu’s eyes snap open, wide and frightened for a second as he slowly realizes where he is and who’s sitting next to him.

“Mako? Is that you?”

“Who else would run into a swamp after you?” Mako grumps, “Bosco the bear?”

Wu’s eyes unexpectedly fill with big, Bolin-level tears. He sniffles briefly, and then he’s flinging himself at Mako, sobbing his heart out, clutching at the fire bender’s shoulders and clinging like Pabu after a scare.

“It’s really you. You came and found me. Mako, you came and found me. It’s really you.”

Mako is not a hugger, but he figures he’ll try for the sake of both their mental stability. He wraps his arms around Wu and pats his head awkwardly. “There, there.”

“I used to sleep-walk as a child. After my parents died. I’d wander around the palace at night. Gun said I was looking for them in my dreams. He’d try to catch me and get me back to my rooms before my great-aunt could see me and punish me. She was really awful, my great-aunt; she could come up with punishments like nobody’s business. I stopped sleep-walking when I got older but I guess…” he sniffles and stops speaking.

“I heard my parents,” Mako admits, “Memories. From before they died.”

“Oh, Mako,” Wu says, voice watery, “What a pair we make.”

“I hate to agree with the hotel receptionist. But they really shouldn’t rent out those rooms.”

That actually pries a phlegmy laugh out of Wu. “Haunted swamp?”

“Haunted swamp,” Mako agrees gravely.

…

_Dear Mako,_

_A swamp? Was it THE Swamp? Did you meet Toph? Bolin is desperate to know. He seems to be torn between disowning you as his brother if you managed to meet his hero before him, and re-owning you as his brother because you’re “cool enough to hang with TOPH.”_

_You know, half the time I can’t even send these replies because you almost never give me a forwarding address. I’m making extra copies of these letters in case you come back and you haven’t heard from me at all and I need to shove all our one-sided correspondence in your face. In the meantime, I’m gossiping about your adventures with your brother. Also via letter._

_Opal bought Bolin a Thesaurus just so he can make his letters to Korra extra ‘pen-pal official’, whatever that means._

_Tell Prince Wu I said hi and that his postscript seemed pretty accurate. Remember that time you fell asleep in the middle of typing something and you had typewriter key shapes stamped on your face all day? Writing always sends you right to sleep._

_Ha. ‘Write’ and ‘Right’._

_…I need to get out more._

_I miss you all,_

_Asami_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YUE IS EXCELLENT. I feel like she could have really helped Korra during her recovery in season 4.


	7. The Original Beifong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Asami,   
> I met Toph.  
> Bolin is going to kill me.  
> I’ve included a weirdly shaped rock from her swamp with this letter for him as a ‘I’m sorry I met your hero without you because you were too busy not being stranded in a swamp’…thing.  
> Yeah.   
> Mako
> 
> In Which Our Heroes Are Still in the Swamp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR LOVELY COMMENTS. I READ EVERY SINGLE ONE AND THEY BRING ME SO MUCH JOY.
> 
> This chapter's a short one but I really wanted to write Toph.

**The Original Beifong**

_Dear Asami,_

_I met Toph._

_Bolin is going to kill me._

_I’ve included a weirdly shaped rock from her swamp with this letter for him as a ‘I’m sorry I met your hero without you because you were too busy not being stranded in a swamp’…thing._

_Yeah._

_Mako_

…

The hug-fest (which was getting uncomfortable considering their multiple layers of mud-encrusted clothing and how weird and vaguely sticky hugging someone in high humidity can be) is abruptly cut off when they’re sunk neck-deep in mud. Pabu shrieks and flees to higher ground – in this case, the top of Mako’s head.

“Who let you two into my swamp?” demands a voice somewhere above them.

“Let go of me,” Mako hisses under his breath at Wu.

“Why?” Wu hisses back.

“So I can dry out this mud with fire bending.”

“You can’t do that like this?”

“Not if you don’t want to catch on fire.”

“…So, the fact that we’re stuck together is a problem here?”

Mako groans, “ _Yes_. You can’t move your arms a little?”

“Not even a wiggle, buddy.”

Mako officially hates the Earth Kingdom.

“But hey,” Wu says in his annoying, perky, ‘I’m trying to look on the bright side while Mako resists the urge to murder things’ voice, “Free mud baths! Those are great for the skin!”

“You two dumbasses know I can hear you, right?” the voice from before grumps, and Mako looks up to see…a tiny old lady glaring at them. Well, more glaring vaguely over Wu’s shoulder.

“If you’re another swamp hallucination, can you just get it over with?” Mako sighs. “It’s been a long night.”

“Ha!” the woman scoffs as Wu hisses “ _Mako, be nice_ ,” while trying to pinch him in their mud-prison. “As if you could ever hallucinate something as awesome as me!”

“Well, in that case,” Mako says awkwardly, “Can you please let us go?”

“Not a chance!” she says cheerfully. “I want to know what you’re up to that’s got the swamp all excited.”

“Aw, the swamp likes us,” Wu coos.

“No, I said the swamp was excited about you,” snaps the old lady, “Like a cat-gator gets excited about rotting meat.”

“Oh, well, that’s less nice,” Wu admits.

“We aren’t up to anything,” Mako protests, “This moron sleep-walked in here and I came after him! Nothing nefarious going on here! Just two people who really want to _not be here anymore._ ”

“Hey, I’m not a moron!” Wu pouts.

“You are when you’re getting me dragged through a swamp at four in the morning.”

“Well that was a set of very specific circumstances outside of my control,” Wu huffs, “You can’t hold my intelligence accountable for _all_ of that.”

“You two are giving me a headache,” the old lady declares, “Shut up before I gag you.”

“With mud?” Wu asks.

“No, with rocks,” the old lady snaps.

Wu shuts up.

“Ma’am,” Mako tries in his nicest, ‘I’m just here to do my job, please don’t air bend a door at me’ voice, “We really didn’t mean to invade your…place. Your swamp. Your swamp-place.”

The old lady sighs. “I’m just messing with you kids,” she says, flicking her wrist and freeing them, “I know who you are.”

“Well, of course you do, I’m royalty,” Wu says without an ounce of shame.

“Nope, no clue who you are,” the old lady says nonchalantly, “I know that one,” she gestures vaguely towards Mako’s head, “because he follows my Lin around like a lost turtleduckling.”

Mako can feel his face burn at that comparison. He does _not_ follow Lin around like a _turtleduckling._ He obeys her orders. And listens to her advice. And worries about her well-being. Because she’s his boss…friend? Friend-boss? Not because she’s some surrogate mother/mentor figure he’s imprinted on like a dumb bird. He’s eighteen (or nineteen? He has a hard time keeping track of his own birthday sometimes. Bolin would know.) damn years old. He doesn’t _need_ a parent in his life. That ship has _sailed._

“I do not follow the Chief around like a turtleduck!” Mako sputters.

“I think she said ‘turtleduckling’,” Wu supplies helpfully.

“I don’t do that either!” Mako snaps.

The old lady, who must be Toph – fuck, he’s just met Bolin’s hero, Lin’s mom, the greatest earth bender in the world, the inventor of metal-bending, and actual person with like a million statues of herself scattered all over the world what the FUCK is his LIFE – cackles unrepentantly.

“You’re the most entertainment I’ve had in months. Come on, we’re having breakfast.” She turns away and stomps off.

When Mako and Wu don’t immediately follow, the earth helpfully grabs them by the ankles and thrusts them after Toph, leaving them staggering and scrambling to catch up.

The weirdness just does never ends, does it?

…

“So, what are you doing in my swamp?” Toph asks bluntly as she ladles scoops of some kind of stew? Mako is going to assume it’s stew and not wonder how a blind woman chops vegetables into stone bowls for them. “Lin finally get tired of you?”

“She’s never met _me,_ so –” Wu begins.

“She was obviously asking me,” Mako grumps.

“I’ve known you five minutes and I’m already tired of you,” Toph offers.

“Beifongs say that about everyone,” Mako says with complete confidence. Then he pauses. “Except for Su. She was weirdly welcoming and friendly.”

“Creepy, isn’t? I don’t know where she gets it from,” Toph says.

Wu chokes on his soup, “What’s in this?”

“Food,” Toph says.

“It’s…” both Toph and Mako glare at him. “Utterly lovely. Thank you.”

“You bet it is,” Toph says smugly.

Mako has eaten food out of literal dumpsters. He’s not going to insult a blind woman’s cooking.

Wu, on the other hand, looks a little green. He offers his bowl to Pabu, who seems intrigued until Toph pours the fire ferret his own bowl of soup. He promptly abandons Wu’s leftovers for his own serving.

“To answer your question, I was sent to get this guy out of Ba Sing Se after everything went down with the Earth Queen.” Mako pauses. “You did hear about that, right?”

“I sure did, and I’m disappointed I missed it! I always wanted to tear down those stupid walls! But somebody always stopped me before I could!”

Mako can agree with that sentiment. The walls pissed him off too.

“Oh, _that’s_ why…” Wu trails off as if he’s had some sort of revelation.

“What?” Toph snaps.

“There are at least twenty different laws about what you can and can’t do to the Ba Sing Se walls and I always thought ‘wow, that’s crazy, who would even do that?’ but I’m starting to think maybe you did.”

Toph grins, “Yeah, probably. Never liked that city. Got banned the second Iroh wasn’t around to make them let me visit.”

“So, you know about the Earth Queen?” Mako says, trying to haul this conversation back on track.

“Yeah,” Toph’s face goes serious, “That was a bad piece of business. I never liked her, but what Zaheer did was cruel. Air bending like that would have broken Aang’s heart.”

“How do you know everything?” Wu asks, poking suspiciously at his soup.

“The swamp tells me,” Toph says, good cheer returning, “These vines stretch for miles! I can be anywhere in the world if I just listen! I can follow Lin and Su and my grandkids and this turtleduck,” she pokes Mako in the face. “I may be blind, but I see everything.”

“So why didn’t you help?” Mako demands. “The world needed…I don’t know, something! Guidance, a hero? Whatever! And you’re the greatest earth bender in the world and you’re what, just sitting in a swamp?”

Toph tilts her head thoughtfully. “You still want to save the world, don’t you?”

“What do you mean?” Mako huffs.

“Listen, kid. You can’t save the world. You can’t fix crime. You can’t end suffering for all time. You can’t stop people being the selfish, ugly, power-hungry little bastards we all know they are.”

“Geez, you must be a riot at parties,” Wu winces.

“Shut up and listen, beansprout, I’m imparting wisdom here,” Toph huffs, “And eat your soup. It’s good for you.”

Wu grimaces at the soup as if he really doubts it’s good for him. Mako rolls his eyes and grabs for his bowl, “I’ll eat it if you’re going to be a picky toddler about it.”

“No, no, give it back,” Wu snatches the bowl back and frowns mightily at him.

“If you two are done,” Toph says flatly. “Kids. I swear. Anyway. You can’t save the world. All you can do is help.”

“Help what? Help who? You just said everything was pointless!”

“I didn’t say everything was pointless,” Toph glares, “You’re lucky I’m in an explaining mood today. A rock would be less dense than you! I _said_ you can’t _save_ the world. There’s no miracle cure for everything awful. But you can do good things. Things that matter. You can make people’s lives suck less. You can’t save the whole Vaatu-blasted world, but you can save _people’s_ worlds. You can stop fuckers like Ozai and Unalaaq from making everything miserable for everyone. You can bring an old lady her purse back when it gets snatched by a mugger. You can go after an idiot when he sleep-walks into a dangerous swamp! The world’s going to continue to suck as long as people keep doing shitty things to each other. So, try to make it suck less for as many people as you can. Sometimes there isn’t some big, final battle. There’s all the stuff that comes in between, too.”

A long moment of silence follows.

And then, “Wu, are you _sniffling_?”

“Sorry, that was just really inspiring.”

“I can’t take you anywhere.”

“And speaking of making the world suck less,” Toph says, propping her feet up on a fresh pillar of earth, “I need a favor.”

“That I can cash in at any time in the future, or a favor where you gave me soup and now, I owe you my life’s savings?” Mako asks suspiciously. “Because I don’t have any life savings. I’m technically homeless and my brother’s probably receiving my paychecks.”

“Vaatu’s arse, your life is pathetic,” Toph observes.

“Tell me about it.”

“No, this is a ‘I guide you out of the swamp and you help me out, we’re even’ kind of favor.”

Well, it could be worse.

“What is it?”

“I need you to go check on Su.”

“Ma’am,” Wu says, “I don’t know how to tell you this, but we’re completely lost. We wouldn’t know how to get to this ‘Su’ person.”

Toph looks extremely unimpressed. “And I thought traveling with Sokka was bad. At least he had a map. And a schedule.”

“Hey, I had a map,” Mako protests, “But _someone_ lost it trying to rescue a baby sea serpent!”

“That was an act of charity and goodness. I was being a not-terrible person, _Mako_ ,” Wu says primly.

“If I get you a guide to Su, will you go check on her?” Toph demands. “I have a bad feeling.”

Mako waits for more of a message to emerge. It does not.

“Is…that it?” Wu asks.

“What, you need a color-coded chart too?” Toph demands, “Well, tough shit, I can’t see colors and I don’t write charts.”

“By ‘guide’, who do you mean?” Mako asks.

“I know a badgermole or two that’ll help you,” Toph says.

Wu perks up immediately, “ _Badgermoles_?”

Mako immediately knows there is no way he’s getting out of a detour to Zaofu.

…

Toph makes sure they get back to the hotel in time to gather their belongings, shower, and check out. Mako is a little annoyed at how surprised the receptionist looks at seeing them still in one piece.

Then they’re going through some tunnels and then there’s two huge badgermoles that Wu immediately starts cooing endearments at.

“Badgermoles live in mated pairs,” Wu babbles excitedly as he pets one huge snout, “They mate for life. The handful of times they’ve been separated in captivity, one will always escape to find the other. They’re just like that. Always together.” He starts singing at the creatures before Mako can figure out a way to respond to that.

He settles for stepping away to speak to Toph.

“Hey, Toph.”

“Yeah, Turtleduck?”

Mako winces. He’s heard stories. He knows about Toph and nicknames. He just hopes Bolin never hears about this one. “Uh. I know it’s not my place. But you should talk to Lin. Really talk.”

“She doesn’t want to see me,” Toph says bluntly. “She made that very clear all these years.”

“Listen,” Mako sighs, “I was alone most of my life. My parents died, and I had to raise my brother, and it…messed me up a little. A lot. I don’t know. What I’m getting at is that being alone isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. And maybe if you both weren’t so damn stubborn and actually listened to each other it wouldn’t be like this!” he draws in a breath and tries to center himself. “Lin is one of the best people I know. She’s tougher than anything. But she’s lonely and some of that is your fault for not teaching her that the whole world isn’t her responsibility and that acting like you give a shit about people isn’t the worst thing in the universe.”

Toph is smiling at him. She reaches over and slugs him in the shoulder hard enough to numb his arm down to the fingertips.

“You’re a good kid,” she says.

“I can’t feel my hand.”

“That means I like you.”

“Oh. Good. Thanks.”

…

_Dear Mako,_

_Bolin is going to lose his mind. I can’t believe you met Toph! Why are you in the Foggy Swamp? How did you get all the way over there?!?_

_Raiko keeps inviting me to these fundraising dinners and they’re no fun without you guys. Turns out you can’t go back to nibbling politely on tiny sandwiches after you’ve seen Bolin try to fit ten of them in his mouth at once or Korra challenge the Fire Nation ambassador to an arm-wrestling match. It’s just not the same._

_On a more serious note, be careful if you wind up in the Zaofu region. Tensions are very high. Raiko has been putting pressure on Su to step in as temporary leader of the Earth Kingdom and she’s putting her foot down, saying she won’t be Raiko’s puppet. Kuvira, meanwhile, is disturbingly gung-ho about uniting the Earth Kingdom… Things could get ugly. Be careful._

_Also, Lin is furious you haven’t sent her any postcards and is hiding it very badly._

_Best,_

_Asami_


	8. The Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Asami,   
> Rumors that I fought a train have been greatly exaggerated. I just fought all the guys on the train. In my defense, they took Wu and I was mad at him because I told him it was a bad idea to be there in the first place, but DID HE LISTEN??? NO, HE DID NOT.   
> Anyway, I didn’t fight a train.   
> Mako  
> P.S. Prince Wu here, in my defense –   
> The rest is scribbled out because there is no defense for not listening to me when I'm right. Which is always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR ALL THE COMMENTS AND KUDOS, IT REALLY MEANS SO MUCH TO ME
> 
> This chapter is not proof read at all because it's super late and I have to work tomorrow.

**The Train**

_Dear Asami,_

_Rumors that I fought a train have been greatly exaggerated. I just fought all the guys on the train. In my defense, they took Wu and I was mad at him because I told him it was a bad idea to be there in the first place, but DID HE LISTEN??? NO, HE DID NOT. _

_Anyway, I didn’t fight a train._

_Mako_

**_P.S. Prince Wu here, in my defense –_ **

_The rest is scribbled out because there is no defense for not listening to me when I’m right. Which is always._

…

Bursting out of the ground on the back of a badgermole right in front of two hapless Metal Clan guards is probably the most satisfying thing Mako has done in a long time, even if he’s in the somewhat undignified position of having to cling to Wu for dear life as he sings directions at massive earth bending animal.

“Um.” The first guard shoots a desperate, huge-eyed look at the other guard, who shrugs helplessly.

“We need to see Su,” Mako says firmly, letting go of Wu and sliding off the badgermole.

“Um.” The first guard says again.

“ _Now_ ,” Mako growls.

“That’s a badgermole,” the second guard says helplessly.

“Yes, yes, it is!” Wu says. Mako glares at him. “What? They’re majestic creatures who should be admired.”

Pabu chitters on Mako’s shoulder, not appreciating these enormous rivals for Wu’s attention.

“Don’t worry, Pabu, you’re majestic too,” Wu blows him a kiss. Mako immediately looks away, face burning.

“Don’t do that,” he grumps.

“What? Shower our animal companions with love and adoration? No, I will not,” Wu says smugly.

“Yeah, well I’m in the love and adoration splash zone and it’s weird.”

“Mako, buddy,” Wu puts the hand not stroking a badgermole’s snout on his shoulder, “You really need to get more comfortable with affection.”

“No, I don’t,” Mako snaps, turning back toward the guards in time to catch one of them trying to covertly radio someone. “Are you radioing Su? Did you tell her we’re here?” Mako asks.

“Um.” The first guard shifts from foot to foot, “Well…not exactly.”

“What do you mean, ‘not exactly’? We’re here to see Su.”

“Well…you see…you kind of showed up…out of nowhere…and started making demands…and didn’t identify yourself…and frankly, your eyebrows are very angry…”

“What was that about my eyebrows?” Mako glares.

“If it makes you feel better, I think they’re cute,” Wu offers.

“You’re stalling,” Mako says suspiciously, “Who did you radio?”

“Mako, look out!” Wu shouts.

Mako turns too late, hands coming up on reflex, only to find his wrists and ankles abruptly cuffed together with bands of steel, which drag him down to earth. Behind him, Wu yelps, presumably receiving the same treatment. Mako feels the prince’s body slam into his back as their wrist cuffs stick together as if magnetized.

“What do we have here?” a vaguely familiar female voice drawls.

Mako looks up to see the leader of Su’s guard standing over them. At Mako’s back Wu is trying to soothe the agitated badgermole and in Mako’s ear Pabu is venting his irritation at the rough treatment.

Mako searches his memory for the woman’s name. “Kuvira?” he tries.

“That’s my name, not a proper answer.”

“Kuvira, you know who I am, we met when we went after Zaheer,” Mako says. “I’m Korra’s fire bender friend. Mako.”

Kuvira’s eyebrow tilts up, “So you are. What are you doing breaking into Zaofu?”

“We weren’t breaking in!” Mako protests, “Badgermoles just don’t do property lines!”

“And who are you?” Kuvira squints down at Wu, “I don’t remember you from when we fought the Red Lotus.”

“Ah, no, no you would not remember me,” Wu says, “Because I was not there. Prince Wu, nice to meet you. I’d do the bow and kiss the hand bit but I’m…well…handcuffed. Could we maybe do something about that?”

Kuvira’s eyes widen microscopically. “Prince Wu.”

“Yep, heir to the Earth Kingdom. Devilishly handsome charmer.” Mako snorts at that. “World-renowned singer.” 

“To badgermoles, maybe,” Mako huffs.

“They have very discerning taste, thank you.”

“You found the Earth Prince,” Kuvira says. She sounds contemplative. The hair stands up on the back of Mako’s neck. He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like whatever is going on behind Kuvira’s eyes. The same instinct for danger that kept him and Bolin alive for ten years is screaming at him that something is very off here.

Kuvira’s face clears and smooths over and that unnerving instinct-feeling only intensifies, “Congratulations, Mako.” Mako really wishes she didn’t use his name. Something about the way she says it makes him feel like she’s assessing him for some unknown purpose. “That must have been very difficult considering the wretched state the Earth Kingdom is in right now.”

“We’ve had a…complicated few weeks trying to get out.”

“Out?” Kuvira raises an eyebrow.

“Out of the Earth Kingdom.”

“We’re headed to Republic City,” Wu contributes, “Where I’m assured there are much fewer people who want us dead.”

“Don’t lump me in with you,” Mako grumbles. Pabu is tense by his cheek, which only drives down that nagging feeling of not-right-ness.

“Well, it’s your lucky day,” Kuvira says. Her eyes are still unnervingly unreadable. “President Raiko is supposed to call with a proposition for Su. You can talk to him.” She waves a hand and the metal bands release Mako and Wu as abruptly as they’d grabbed them. Wu sags against Mako’s back, but Mako is jumping to his feet immediately, dragging Wu behind him.

“Take us to see Su first,” Mako says firmly. “We have a message for her.”

Kuvira’s blank eyes flicker to the badgermole who hasn’t stopped its low, grumbly growl since she’d trussed up Wu. “Will your…friend be accompanying you?”

“No,” Wu says, sidling up to the badgermole and resting a soothing hand on its snout. He presses a kiss to the creature’s forehead, “Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispers.

The badgermole delicately head-butts Wu and, with a last grumble at Kuvira, shuffles back into the tunnel they’d emerged from. The tunnel seals itself behind the creature.

“Alright!” Wu says brightly, “Let’s go meet Su!”

Mako scoops up their bags, still full of trepidation.

…

Su is hanging up the phone when they arrive at her study. “That man is impossible!” she snaps, flinging the receiver back into the cradle. “I won’t be some puppet leader for him to manipulate!”

“Some guests to see you, Su,” Kuvira says from the doorway.

Su looks up, brow furrowed, but she still smiles when she sees them. “Mako, hello, it’s been too long,” she says, sweeping him into a hug before he can hide behind Wu.

He has no idea what to do with his hands. She’s pinned them to his sides as she squeezes the air out of his lungs. Why does every earth bender hug like they’re trying to juice his bones?

“Hi…Su…” he wheezes.

“Oh, did I squash you?” she asks, pulling away.

“Only my spine,” Mako tries for humor, “nothing important.”

Su smiles at him and Mako resists the urge to look over his shoulder and see who the expression is _really_ directed at. He’s never met a person like Su who just…sees random people as beautiful things to be nurtured. It’s a little too touchy-feely for his tastes. Makes him feel too seen.

Bolin probably soaks it up like sunshine.

“And who is this?” Su asks lightly.

“Prince Wu, at your service, my lady,” Wu sweeps into some sort of complicated court bow, takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. “And you can only be the devastating Suyin Beifong, leader of the Zaofu Metal Clan.”

“Yeah, of course she is,” Mako sighs, “We’re in Zaofu and I called her ‘Su’.”

“Hush, you,” Wu elbows him.

Su laughs delightedly, “You two are the best things I’ve seen all day. Come on, sit down. Kuvira, why don’t you join us. We can catch up.”

“I shouldn’t leave my post, ma’am,” Kuvira says tightly. He posture seems somehow more rigid and she’s not meeting Su’s eyes.

Mako may be bad at reading people, but even he can tell something has changed since the last time he saw these women interact.

“Oh, alright,” Su says uncertainly, “I just know how concerned you are with the state of the Earth Kingdom right now –”

“Don’t call it ‘The Earth Kingdom’ as if you don’t live here too, Suyin.” Kuvira snaps.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You may be content to sit here, but –”

“This is not the time or place to discuss this,” Su cautions, “We have guests.”

“One of whom is supposedly the leader of this country.” Kuvira argues, “I think we have some conversational leeway.”

“That’s enough,” Su says tightly. “As you mentioned before. You should return to your post.”

Kuvira shoots her a look full of contempt and strides out.

Su sags back into the couch and presses a hand to her forehead. “Things have been…tense here recently. As the situation in the Earth Kingdom deteriorates Raiko’s been putting more and more pressure on me to take charge of the Earth Kingdom for him. What he really wants is a puppet government, but he’ll never come out and say it. But I won’t be his tool and I won’t impose my will on an entire nation. It wouldn’t be right. I barely count as a citizen, what do I know about their lives? Their struggles?” she sighs.

Mako doesn’t know what to say to that so he just barrels ahead, “Your mom says hi.”

Su blinks at him. “You met Toph.”

Mako nods, a little awkwardly. “Uh. Yeah.”

“She made us the most atrocious soup,” Wu begins before Mako steps on his foot. “What? It was.”

“Don’t say that to her _daughter,_ ” Mako hisses. Pabu chitters, presumably in agreement.

Su laughs. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me. I’m well aware of the quality of my mother’s cooking. ‘Mystery stew’ and takeout were about the limits of her skillset.”

Wu gestures as if to say ‘see, Mako? Even her own daughter agrees’.

Mako just rolls his eyes. “She told us to come see you. She has a message.”

“Oh?” Su looks surprised, “She never has messages. What was it?”

“Uh. That she ‘had a bad feeling’.” He pauses. “That’s it. I’m not sure what exactly you’re supposed to get from that…”

But Su is frowning like this means something. “No, she’s right. I can’t ignore it. Things have been more than tense here. We’re building up to some kind of standoff between me and Kuvira at this rate and I don’t like the way she’s thinking.”

“The way she’s thinking?” Wu asks.

“I think she’s considering taking on the Earth Kingdom herself. Becoming Raiko’s puppet ruler in my stead.”

“But…I’m here,” Wu says, “I mean, if anyone should be a puppet ruler, it should be me.”

“That’s not something to be proud of, Wu,” Mako says.

Wu tosses his hair, “I’d make a splendid puppet ruler, Mako. Look at me, I’m all good hair and impeccable taste in fashion. What else could a puppet ruler need?”

Mako frowns at him, “You’re not serious, right?”

Wu’s playfrul expression softens, “No, I’m not serious. Things…Kuvira’s right. The things we’ve seen out there. They’re bad, Mako. Someone needs to help them. But I don’t know how we’re supposed to do that. As things stand, no one’s going to just do what I say. Ba Sing Se is in shambles, the central administration is shattered, I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Kuvira thinks she does,” Su says grimly, “But I’m not sure I like her thinking.”

“What does she want to do?” Mako asks.

“Since Ba Sing Se fell to mob rule, she’s been saying someone should go in and establish order. By force. I’m afraid she’s going to want to do the same to the rest of the Earth Kingdom.”

…

Dinner is a…tense affair. Mako had hoped Bolin would still be in the area, visiting Opal, but apparently, she’d been called away on air bender business and he’d gone with her. Mako bites back his disappointment and focuses on being as invisible as possible.

The last time he’d attended a big family meal in Zaofu he’d wanted nothing more than to be included in the conversation. Or at least to be able to hear it in the first place. Now he finds himself desperately grateful to be sandwiched between Huan and the twins. His only complaint is that Wu is all the way at the other end of the table and he can’t hear whatever insane ideas Kuvira is pouring in his ear in that damnably reasonable voice of hers. That is, when she isn’t sniping at Su. Mako would almost feel bad for her poor, neglected boyfriend, but Bataar jr. is occupying himself by attempting to start a fight with his father. Bataar might be the single most unflappable man Mako knows, but even his patience has to be wearing thin.

Mako tries not to stress.

Mako fails to not stress.

He spends the meal (delicious as always) listening to Wing and Wei talk about sports with half an ear while tracking Wu and Kuvira’s body language from across the room.

“She’s like a bird of prey, and he’s the rabbit-vole who doesn’t realize she’s a threat,” observes Huan in his even voice.

Mako’s eyes cut over to him. “Yeah. That’s the vibe I’m getting, too.”

Huan nods as if to say ‘nice talk’ and returns to his dinner.

Mako decides Huan might be his favorite of the youngest Beifong generation. Maybe tied with Opal if she keeps treating Bolin right.

This dinner cannot end soon enough.

…

After dinner Mako tries to grab Wu, but he’s off with Kuvira and Su, trying to play friendly referee. Before Mako can reach them, Bataar jr. steps in front of him, effectively blocking him from catching up to the contentious trio before they leave the room.

“What do you want?” Mako asks, trying to smother his irritation.

“Is that how you talk to people in Republic City?” Bataar jr. drawls.

Mako reminds himself that he likes Su and he will not punch her most annoying offspring in the face.

“I’m sorry. Did you want a note in calligraphy?” Mako snipes because he’s grumpy and he wants to know what Kuvira is up to because she’s clearly up to something and this is Unalaaq and Varrick all over again, he’s sure of it.

Speaking of Varrick, someone was notably absent from dinner…him and Zhu Li…

Mako does not like what this is adding up to.

“You would do well to stay out of Earth Kingdom business,” Bataar jr. says high-handedly, “It’s none of the Republic City Police Department’s concern.”

“Right now, my _concern_ is what I say it is. And right now, I’m saying it’s Wu. Raiko sent me to find him and bring him to safety in one piece. And that is what I’m going to do.”

“You don’t know anything about the Earth Kingdom. What it needs. _Who_ it needs,” Bataar jr. says, “Do you really think a Republic City street rat and a spoiled, airheaded prince know what’s best for _our_ nation?”

“Do _you_ really think you have the right to call _me_ names?” Mako growls, “How much time have _you_ spent out in the real Earth Kingdom? Because from where I’m standing, you’re just as much a spoiled prince as Wu, you just never bothered to leave _your_ palace. At least he’s out there, meeting his people. You’re whining about what? Being in your father’s shadow? That’s what happens when you never bother to grow up.”

“How _dare_ you?” Bataar jr. hisses.

“That’s enough,” his father cuts in. “Mako is our guest.”

Bataar jr. shoots his predecessor a dark look and storms out.

Definitely his least favorite Beifong, Mako decides.

The original Bataar sighs.

“We never wanted our children to want for anything. We wanted to give them space and love and support so they could go wherever their dreams took them. All parents want is a better life for their children than the life they themselves had. And Su and I have always done our best to give that to our family. Junior blames me for limiting him. But it is really he who is limiting himself with his bitterness and resentment.”

Bataar’s face is tired and sad in a way Mako hasn’t seen before. He finds himself wondering what his own father would think if they met today. Would he be proud of Mako? Or would he wear that same haggard, sorrowful look he sees on Bataar right now?

“Listen to me,” Bataar says wryly, “Going on and on. It’s not like me. I guess you’re just easy to talk to, son.”

Mako blinks. He has never, ever, in his life been classified as ‘easy to talk to’. Chatty people like Wu seem to think he’s easy to talk _at_ , but that’s a very different kind of interaction.

He’s not sure how to respond to this.

He opts to just clear his throat and kind of vaguely nod, “Whatever helps, sir.”

At least that makes Bataar smile a little bit.

…

Wu is late getting back to their guest room and Mako is pacing, Pabu clinging sleepily to his shoulder. When Wu finally returns it’s to a harried-looking fire bender and a half-asleep fire ferret.

“Where have you been?” Mako demands.

“Oh, you’re still up,” Wu says breezily, “I got to chatting with Kuvira. She has a plan you’re gonna love.”

“I doubt that,” Mako says acidly.

Wu blithely ignores him, “So, as we had ample opportunity to notice, the Earth Kingdom is kind of completely in shambles right now. Ba Sing Se is just one big old lump of mob violence and everywhere else is pretty much bandit central! So Kuvira’s been talking to Varrick and he’s outfitted this extra special train and she’s thinking she’ll just take a contingent of Metal Clan guards and get Ba Sing Se under control! She was hoping Su would come along, as a leader and an inspiration for the people, but now that _I’m_ here she’s thinking maybe Su doesn’t even _need_ to come, not if she doesn’t want to! _I’m_ the future king, after all! Who better to distribute humanitarian aid and peace in the Earth Kingdom than the soon-to-be _Earth King_?! So, we’ll be heading out in the morning, once Kuvira’s chatted with Su one more time. Bright and early, big guy, we’ll be on our way back to Ba Sing Se to fix everything,” Wu laughs, “Isn’t life funny sometimes?”

“What do you mean ‘we’?” Mako demands, “And since when have you agreed to be Kuvira’s royal mascot?”

“Since ten minutes ago,” Wu says, “Weren’t you listening? And I’m not going to be some mascot or figure head, I’ll be a real leader! In the thick of things! Doing good!”

“On an armored train with a woman who wants to take Ba Sing Se by force?” Mako demands.

“Well how else are we going to do it? No one’s going to just…stop stealing everything and murdering people all over the place on their own!”

“Doesn’t this all seem a little fishy to you?”

Wu throws up his hands, “I can’t _believe_ this! Coming from you! You! Mr. Do-something-for-yourself-for-a-change-you-might-like-it! You’ve been on my case about responsibility the entire time we’ve known each other and now you’re just going to what? Jump ship and sulk because Kuvira’s type of responsibility isn’t _your_ idea of responsibility?”

“No,” Mako snaps, “I’m saying there’s something off about her plans and the last time I thought there was something ‘off’ about a person’s plans, they threw me in jail under false pretenses and tried to kidnap the president! Sorry if I’m a little picky about people I let close to my friends!”

It’s a testament to how worked up Wu is that he doesn’t even pounce on the admission of friendship. “What would you know about geopolitics or good strategy or, I don’t know, _being king?_ You’re just a random foreigner butting into Earth Kingdom business! Go home, if you’re not going to help. We don’t need you. I _certainly_ don’t need you if you’re going to be like this!”

That cuts deeper than Mako expects. It always does. He never expects people to be able to hurt him and he’s always surprised when they do. He never learns.

“Well it’s not like I _needed_ any of the Vaatu-damned bullshit you’ve dragged me through the last few weeks! Going home will be a fucking _vacation_ after being your glorified butler!”

“That _I’ve_ dragged _you_ , into?” Wu gapes at him, “Friendly reminder, _you_ were the one who got yourself kidnapped by that biker gang. _You_ were the one who decided to shout at volcano spirits. _You,_ my good man, were the problem child of our little duo.”

“ _Problem child?_ ” Mako growls. “You want to talk about _problem children_?”

The argument devolves from there.

In hindsight, Mako should not have been surprised when he woke up to find Wu already gone.

…

No matter how stupid their fight was, or how annoyed he is at the prince for being all high-handed and…prince-y, Mako isn’t going to let him waltz into a dangerous situation completely blind. He grabs Pabu and goes to find a Beifong.

Wing and Wei are hurling metal discs at each other again, and Mako, not liking the odds of his bones vs. a sharp, spinning, metal frisbee, decides to seek out Huan. At least he won’t decapitate him on accident.

Huan is in his studio, frowning at an abstract…something. Mako never understood art.

“Huan, I need a favor.”

Huan doesn’t look away from his work, “Hmm?”

“I need to know where the train Varrick’s building for Kuvira is. I need to get on board before they finish breakfast and leave.”

Yes, he’s hungry, and yes, he’s grumpy that he’s skipping breakfast for a paranoid hunch, but if he’s right it will be worth it.

Huan shrugs. “Sure. I can feel it under my feet. It’s very disruptive.” He turns away from his work. “Follow me.” He says, striding away without looking behind him, just like Toph in the swamp.

Mako follows.

…

Huan metal bends the door to the train’s cargo cabin open and lets Mako inside. “Don’t die,” he instructs before he closes to the hatch, “You dying would make Bolin sad. And that would make Opal sad. So, don’t die.”

“Thanks,” Mako says.

Huan nods as if that settles it, and closes the hatch.

Mako spends the next ten to fifteen minutes doing a quick recon of the train before finding a closet full of cables and circuit breakers to squash himself into.

He’s gotten as comfortable as possible with a mass of electrical cables digging into his back and sending his inner flame haywire as it tries to reach out to the electricity he can feel flowing just out of reach, when he hears voices.

“Will the prince be joining us in the command cabin?” Zhu Li’s smooth voice inquires.

Bataar jr. snorts, “Of course not. His _highness_ ,” the title sounds wrong the way he says it. It’s not like when Mako is teasing Wu, poking fun at his occasional bouts of pomposity. There’s something ugly in Bataar jr.’s tone he can’t place. “is here purely to give our project legitimacy. I doubt Kuvira plans on keeping him around. He’ll be much better off contained until the Earth Kingdom is secured under Kuvira’s much more capable leadership. Then it won’t matter what happens to him.”

There’s a pause, as if even the unflappable Zhu Li is a little taken aback. “Of course, sir,” she finally replies.

“Glad that’s settled. For now, spruce up the brig a little. We’ll get his highness settled there as soon as we depart. He’s leaving his pet fire bender in Zaofu. He’s been pouting about some fight they had all morning. I doubt his noodle-armed majesty is much of a threat.”

“Of course, sir,” Zhu Li says again.

Mako bristles. Only he’s allowed to make fun of Wu’s general…noodliness.

The pair walk off and Mako seethes.

He was right. He was right. He was RIGHT. And yet again NO ONE LISTENED TO HIM.

It’s enough to give a man a complex. For now, he’ll just focus on waiting for the train to leave. If Bataar jr. is right, they’ll throw Wu in the brig the minute they’re away from Zaofu and any potential friends or allies for the prince. Mako slips out of his electrical closet. Time to find a hiding place closer to the brig. He’ll have a prince to bust out in a few hours.

…

The train starts moving.

No signs of Wu.

The train continues to move.

Mako continues to wait. Pabu chirrs restlessly in his ear and Mako absently scratches him on the head as he listens.

Finally, _finally_ he hears the sound of footsteps and a familiar voice.

“ _Wow,_ that tea of yours sure packs a punch, don’t it, Zhu Li?” Wu’s voice is slurred, his words all running together in a mushy mass, and it sounds like he’s staggering. Maybe Zhu Li is supporting him.

“Yes, sir,” she says blandly. “You seem out of sorts, sir. Let’s get you someplace you can lie down.”

“That sounds,” a yawn, “wonderful…”

Definitely drugged, then. Mako can feel his hands heating up as he forces down his rage at this whole damn situation. At Wu for being so naïve, at Kuvira for taking advantage of it, at Bataar jr. and Zhu Li for their parts in whatever this is. Spirits, he’s mad at Kuvira for not keeping her word. He wishes he was wrong and that Kuvira really was doing all of this in good faith. That she was allowing Wu a hand in helping aid his nation. A nation he somehow still loves despite it doing it’s damnedest to kill them the last few weeks.

He hears the sound of a door opening and a skinny, princely body hitting a thin, under-stuffed mattress.

“Sleep well, your highness,” Zhu Li says with perfect politeness, as if she were seeing Wu off after a pleasant brunch instead of dumping his unconscious body in a mobile prison cell.

Mako grinds his teeth. Pabu, on his shoulder, presses closer, sensing his frustration.

He hears the door close and the clip-clip of Zhu Li’s retreating footsteps. He waits a moment and then slips out from his hiding place. He goes to the only occupied cell and crouches, ready to pick the lock, only to find it…unlocked.

He looks up, startled, to see Zhu Li still standing at the end of the car, poised to exit. She meets his eyes and inclines her head.

Baffled, Mako nods back.

Zhu Li retreats, leaving him alone with his charge.

Wu is dead weight when he scoops the prince off the cot, but he’s not exactly hefty, and Mako gets him over one shoulder easily. It’s not the most comfortable of positions, but it leaves at least one hand free for fire bending, if necessary.

Wu startles a little when Mako first picks him up.

“Heeey, Mako, buddy,” he slurs, “Are we in jail?”

“You are; I’m busting you out.”

“Oh…I think they drugged my tea.”

“No shit.”

“No shit, my man. Big guy. Man. Big man-guy-man.”

“You are seriously drugged.”

“You know it.”

“Now shut up and let me think.”

Wu shuts up briefly, curling his fingers in the back of Mako’s jacket. “I think you were right, Mako.”

“It’s okay,” Mako says because Wu’s voice is small and scared and he’s not completely heartless, “Now, stop talking, I have to figure out where to go from here.”

Now, an escape route.

The prison car is close to the middle of the train, meaning uncoupling the car would just strand them with half a train full of Kuvira’s people. There’s no windows or emergency exits (which seems like a hazard, now that Mako’s thinking about it). Zhu Li left through the door headed toward the forward cabins, where Kuvira’s inner circle presumably lurks. So Mako’s best bet is the door to the other end of the train. He wishes he had the time to cut a rooftop hatch and just bust out that way, but he doesn’t know how long it will be before Bataar jr. comes back here to be smug in Wu’s general direction (he seems like the type. Kuvira undoubtedly has better things to do. She seems like the ruthlessly focused type. Frankly, Mako would admire her if she wasn’t trying to conquer a country and steal his traveling companion behind everyone’s backs.). The other door it is, then. Mako can only hope that one has an emergency exit.

And no immediate threats.

Mako figures his best bet is just to brazen it out. He adjusts Wu on one shoulder, Pabu clinging tightly on the other, and opens the door.

…

Mako will learn later that the doors in and out of the prison car have alarms alerting the command car when they open and close. Zhu Li will learn this too and regret not anticipating this.

…

Mako manages to get them between cars and into the next car over – some kind of dry goods supply car – and is feeling pretty okay about this rescue mission. The supply car is sort of useless, due to also not having any windows or an escape hatch, so he moves on to the next car.

The next car comes with some pros and cons.

Pro: windows.

Cons: it’s a dining car of some sort, there are several metal benders in it, an alarm undoubtedly related to the prince slung over his shoulder is blaring, and those metal benders are not looking friendly.

Mako takes a pre-emptive measure and kicks a table over to give them some sort of shield. He drops Wu, who is half awake at best, and tells him to stay down as a barrage of forks lodge themselves in their makeshift shield.

“Wu, get on my back!” Mako yells, returning fire blindly as he too crouches behind the table.

“Wha-?” the prince mumbles.

“Ugh,” Mako hurls a wave of flame at their attackers and uses the microscopic window provided to manhandle Wu into an awkward back-pack-like position over Mako’s back. “Hold on to my shoulders!” Mako orders.

Wu fumbles to do that, catching and tangling his fingers in Mako’s collar as he does so, but managing it in the end.

“Hang on tight!” Mako orders, then rocks back on his heels and aims a pair of powerful fire-jets at the table in front of them. The overturned tables shoots forward like a greased hippo-cow, slamming into the metal benders and bowling them over. Mako charges around it and bolts for the door, unlocking it and climbing out. He blasts the locking mechanism with a burst of fire hot enough to melt it just enough to stick. He swings across the gap between cars and climbs up the service ladder to the top of the train.

Wu slithers off his shoulder to stand on his own, looking green and still clinging to Mako’s arm.

Some of Kuvira’s people have skipped dodging between cars and are just running down the roof of the train. A wave of cables fly towards them and Mako closes his eyes and summons up an arc of electricity. He doesn’t guide the bolt towards the attacking metal benders, instead painting it in a wide arc in front of himself, catching their metal cables and sending literal shockwaves back through them. He sends a few blasts of fire that way to make sure they stay down.

“Go!” he shouts at Wu, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him down the train. He’s sure more of Kuvira’s minions will figure out where they are soon. They’re sitting targets out here in the open. He’s not a metal bender, he can’t just pull up a barrier if they start flinging steel after them. He swings down to the deck of the next car in the line and helps Wu down after him.

He breaks into the next car. This one is some kind of sleeper car. Blessedly empty, but with the lights still running.

Lights.

Electricity.

Mako remembers the first closet he’d hidden in. The hum of all those wires.

He searches for a wooden table. “Climb on that,” he orders Wu, “And don’t touch the walls.”

Wu, pupils huge from what must have been a staggering amount of drugs, nods mutely and does as he’s told. Mako shoves Pabu into Wu’s arms and turns away.

Mako opens up the control panel and draws just a flicker of electricity up to his hands. He tries to remember Asami’s gauntlets, how they looked, how they worked. Power crackles around his wrist and he hopes this works as he slams it into the cables.

He has a long way to go before he can imitate Asami’s gauntlets.

The blow-back from the electrical surge is enough to singe his clothes, and make his hair stand on end. His nerves are singing with it, if that singing were horribly high and shrieky and off-pitch and painful.

But everything electrical suddenly flickers and goes dark. The train itself actually shudders.

Wu is looking wide-eyed and terrified, but unhurt, as he lets Mako help him down from the table and haul him down to the last car and practically hurl him across to the caboose. Mako jumps after him, nerves still frazzled from the lightning.

“Watch my back!” he yells to Wu, “I’m uncoupling the car!”

Wu nods and turns towards the caboose’s door, presumably ready for action. Mako flicks his fingers and summons a band of super-heated flame. He had tried to use a thin blade of fire to saw through their prison bars when he and Bolin had been jailed at Ba Sing Se, and it had worked, albeit slowly. He’s hoping for less of a ‘precision cutting tool’ and more of a ‘great saw of fire capable of melting through metal hopefully faster than these guys can catch up to us’.

He’s pouring sweat and about halfway through the car coupling when the door to the caboose is ripped open and someone yells “What on earth is all that racket?”

Vaatu’s slimy arse, Mako cannot catch a break. Of course it’s Varrick.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Mako’s not sorry at all. “But we’re escaping a kidnapping and you’re in the way.”

“A kidnapping attempt?” Varrick sounds honestly puzzled. “Who’s getting kidnapped? Other than me, because it very much looks like you’re trying to kidnap me.”

“It was me,” Wu giggles. The drugs have not worked their way out of his system, no matter how hard the adrenaline must be fighting them.

Varrick must have reached for Wu or something, because Paub shrieks his fury and suddenly Mako hears a string of curses and Varrick wailing for Zhu Li to come save him.

“Zhu Li’s not here right now,” Mako snaps, “She’s up front with Kuvira. Why are you in the caboose?”

“This is where my lab is! I think a better question is why are you trying to detach my caboose?! Wait, that came out wrong…”

A crash further up the train and the sound of screaming steel.

“That’s why!” Mako shouts.

“Pabu, stop biting the funny man’s mustaches,” Wu laughs.

The who train jolts.

“You know what, no, this is insane, move over,” Varrick declares, “I’m not getting stranded in the wilderness because you two are having what sounds like a very bad day. I’m going over to that other car over there, and I will manually un-link the cars so you can stop burning holes in my train!”

“Sure, fine, whatever,” Mako snaps. The whole train jolts again. “But make it snappy!”

“I will!” Varrick shouts, jumping across. He does something involving a lever and a wrench he’d kept in some hidden pocket and the caboose pops free of the train. “See?!” Varrick yells after them, “This way maybe my lab car will stay intact…”

His voice fades rapidly as the caboose slows and the rest of the train charges on without it.

Mako, exhausted, extinguishes any lingering flames and sags back against the caboose’s door. Wu sinks down to slump beside him, Pabu pooled on their laps.

“I’m still…very drugged…” Wu observes.

Mako huffs a laugh, “Yeah you are.”

“That was… _wild_.” Wu says.

“Yep.”

“I’m sorry, Mako. I was a royal brat.”

“You’re always a royal brat.”

“Well how do you like that for graciousness,” Wu huffs.

“ _But,_ ” Mako says, “I’m sorry too. And I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Okay?” Wu snorts, “I am _so_ dizzy right now. Whole world’s one big smear. Your face is like a big ol’ blob with pointy hair and angry eyebrows.”

“My eyebrows aren’t angry!”

…

_Dear Mako,_

_You have a wanted poster now. Congratulations. Kuvira wants you ‘for questioning regarding acts of violence against Earth Kingdom citizens and property’. There’s another wanted poster, this one for ‘The alleged Wu Hou-Ting, pretender to the throne’._

_Do you need me to go out there? Do you need Lin?_

_Mako, I wish I could send this to you, but I don’t know where you are._

_Your very worried friend,_

_Asami_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Plot is exhausting. We're back to our regularly scheduled nonsensical shenanigans for a bit after this.


	9. The Singing Nomads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Asami,  
> So, you may have heard that I’m a wanted criminal again. I stand by what I did but the wanted posters are a little much.  
> You may have also heard something about me crashing a wedding and getting chased by a very angry park ranger. This is…unfortunately true.  
> All I want is a nap,  
> Mako

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO COMMENTED, YOU REALLY MAKE MY DAY AND KEEP ME INSPIRED
> 
> I've played with canon a little bit here. I know in the comics that it's established that homophobia exists in some places in Avatar world...but that depresses me so I changed it.

**The Singing Nomads**

_Dear Asami,_

_So, you may have heard that I’m a wanted criminal again. I stand by what I did but the wanted posters are a little much._

_You may have also heard something about me crashing a wedding and getting chased by a very angry park ranger. This is…unfortunately true._

_All I want is a nap,_

_Mako_

…

Mako has only himself to blame for this. He was the one who said “sure, just don’t get killed” when Wu saw the band of nomads and approached them. He could have put a stop to this before it even started.

He did not and now they’re here.

‘Here’ being wandering with a bunch of flower-bedecked musical weirdos who seem to always be just this side of intoxicated.

Mako tries to think on the bright side. He’s fond of lists, so he makes a mental list.

**Reasons Traveling with Drunken Troubadours is Not That Bad – a List**

**Reason 1:** They have food. Yes, it’s weird…possibly laced with hallucinogens food. But food. Questionably intoxicating food is better than no food.

**Reason 2:** Wu likes them, ergo Wu has been complaining less. This is good.

**Reason 3:** Kuvira will never, ever, in a million years think to look for them here.

**Reason 4:** …there is no reason 4.

Of course, Mako can’t resist the urge to make a mental list of all the reasons traveling with drunken troubadours is Horrible, Awful, and not to be attempted if you value your sanity. It is mostly song titles, as the troubadours NEVER STOP SINGING. And all their songs are AWFUL and DON’T EVEN RHYME. 

They’re currently singing their fourth rendition of ‘Secret Tunnel’ of the morning and Mako wants to die. If Kuvira herself turned up in the next five seconds he would walk up to her with open arms and beg to be taken prisoner. Anything to get this Vaatu-blasted tune out of his head.

They’d been walking for a day and a half (and Wu was _not_ happy when he realized fleeing for their lives meant no food or supplies or changes of clothes) when they ran into the troubadours, who welcomed them with open arms. It’s been three days since then. Wu’s hair is full of flowers. He’s learning how to play all their instruments. Their leader, a scruffy-looking character who never seems to button his damn shirt and who’s constantly bragging about how his great-grandfather met the Avatar one time, has been flirting with Wu outrageously since day two.

Mako, on the other hand, has had a headache since day one, keeps having to dodge flower wreaths as various musicians try to drape them over him, and has given up on these damn people ever remembering his name.

“Mako, you have to embrace the journey,” Wu says cheerily. The troubadours have not improved Wu’s concept of personal space. He’s practically draped his entire skinny body over Mako. “That’s what Ling keeps saying.”

“Well if _Ling_ says it,” Mako resists the urge to roll his eyes at the mention of the troubadours’ handsy leader.

“Exactly. Ling says it!” Wu chirps.

Mako squints at his pupils. “Have you been drinking?”

“Only a little. Chao bought some homebrew wine in the last town they stopped by and wowza is it good.”

“You’re swaying,” Mako says flatly, reaching an arm around to steady his floppy companion.

“Huh, and here I thought the world was just a little more crooked than usual,” Wu beams up at him like this is a fantastic revelation.

“You exhaust me.”

“Hey, Sweet Stuff –” creepy, flirty, annoying troubadour’s current nickname for Wu, and the source of one of Mako’s rapidly multiplying headaches, “and…uh, guy,” see? They can’t seem to remember his name. It’s an easy name! “We’re getting kinda close to the Cave of Two Lovers.”

“Ooh, there’s a song about that place!” says one of the troubadours, probably Chao of the homebrew.

“Yeah, how’s it go again?” another asks.

“Go?” Mako blinks, “You mean ‘Secret Tunnel’? The song you’ve been singing ALL DAY?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely!”

Mako’s eyebrow twitches.

“The spot’s really romantic,” Ling continues.

Mako gives up and rolls his eyes. “Of course, it is. It’s called ‘Cave of Two Lovers’. Romance is in the name.”

“You think they thought of that when they named it?”

Mako exhales through his nose, “I genuinely can’t tell if you’re the dumbest person I’ve ever met or just completely wasted.”

“It’s all good, Guy,” Ling says, like that makes sense.

Mako genuinely wonders if these people all think his name is literally just ‘Guy’.

He opens his mouth, unsure what on earth he could possibly say in the face of this nonsense conversation, when Wu interrupts.

“Oh! Look! A waterfall!”

That successfully diverts everyone’s attention and at least puts a halt to the singing.

“You seem grumpy,” Wu observes, still leaning on Mako, watching with half an eye as the rest of the party wades into the pool at the bottom of the small waterfall, exclaiming at the water.

“And here I thought I was hiding it so well,” Mako deadpans.

Wu pouts and pokes Mako’s nose. “I’m having fun.”

“Yes, you are,” Mako agrees.

“So, you should too!” Wu pokes Mako in the nose again.

“What if this isn’t fun for me?”

Wu’s face falls. “But…I want to have fun with you!”

“We don’t really have fun together,” Mako tries to be gentle, crooking a smile, “We spend most of our time running for our lives together.”

Wu’s face folds into some complex emotion Mako can’t track. “We should fix that.”

“If you say so.”

Wu suddenly brightens. “We can fix that at the waterfall! Water is fun! Swimming! Fun! Come on, Mako!” He bolts away, still clinging to Mako’s wrist and hauling him along in his wake.

Mako just lets himself be dragged. With Wu this out of it, he’ll probably just upset him if he fights this.

He does manage to convince the prince to, at the very least, take off his jacket and shoes before jumping into the water.

Wu pops up like a cork, bobbing in the water and shoving sodden curls out of his eyes. “See, Mako! Fun!”

Despite himself, Mako smiles a little at Wu’s big, goofy smile.

Mako takes the time to take off his jacket, overshirt, shoes, and socks, and fold them neatly. He keeps his money stashed in a series of small pockets he sewed into the waist band of his trousers. He knows better than to leave valuables sitting around where someone or something can take them.

Wu is treading water and looking around him like a swimming hole is the most exciting thing to ever happen to him. “They never used to let me swim like this,” he says out of nowhere.

“What do you mean?” Mako asks, dunking his head in the water and scrubbing at his hair. Might as well try to get something clean if they’re going to be here awhile.

Wu flops back to float, “I was taught how to swim because swimming is a dignified sort of exercise a royal might contemplate partaking in,” his tone shifts slightly and Mako can hear the echoes of Grand Secretariat Gun in his words, “But it was always in the pool in the royal complex. My great-aunt would have a conniption if she knew her heir was swimming in a _hole in the ground_ like an _animal_.” He laughs, bright and loud and unrestrained.

Mako snorts, “I learned how to swim in the ocean,” he admits.

“Really?” Wu rolls over and paddles his way, green eyes big, “I’ve never seen the ocean. What’s it like?”

Mako shrugs, “Big. Salty. Loud.”

Wu pouts and pokes him in the chest. “You’re bad at describing things,” he pauses, “and what is with this torn undershirt,” he hooks a finger in the crookedly repaired rip in the collar of Mako’s tank top.

“Hey, hands off, I don’t want to have to re-stitch that,” Mako swats his hand away, feeling unaccountably flushed. Must be the scrutiny. Mako never did like people judging him and Bolin for their scruffy wardrobes. He’d done his best, okay?

Wu rolls his eyes and throws up his hands, “Very well, Mr. Huffy.”

“I’m not huffy.”

Wu tweaks his nose.

“What is with you and my nose?!”

“I’m drunk and it’s cute! You scrunch it all up when you’re angry. Yeah! Like that! And your eyebrows go all ‘grrrr’. My eyebrows can’t do that.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Mako shoves Wu’s face away, “Go bother your new friends.”

“Nooo, you haven’t told me about the ocean yet!”

Mako huffs, “It’s big, it’s salty. It’s really cold. My mom taught me and Bolin how to swim in it. My dad would sit on the beach and cheer us on. Mom would try to get him to get in with us and he’d joke that he was an earth bender so he’d sink like a rock. My mom scrunched her nose up when she laughed.”

“Like you,” Wu offers.

“No,” Mako says, “She was always laughing around my dad. She didn’t get angry like me.”

Wu stares at him and Mako holds his gaze until it gets too heavy and he has to look away. After a long moment, where he’s sure Wu will take the hint and change the damn subject Wu reaches out and gently pokes his nose again whispering “boop,” under his breath.

Mako looks back at him just to glare him into submission, but Wu is smiling. “Thank you for sharing that, Mako.”

Mako looks away, uncomfortable again, “Yeah. Um. Just. Go play with your annoying friends.”

“Okay, buddy,” Wu’s eyes are soft.

Mako listens to him paddle away and stands in the water, letting it lap against his chin and thinks about the ocean.

…

It is apparently a law of the universe that whenever Mako relaxes his guard some new absurdity must hit.

They’ve settled by the waterfall, the troubadours putting out a picnic lunch and breaking out their instruments for yet another musical interlude. Wu has sobered up a bit, and abstained from more of the homebrew in favor of water. Mako is letting his clothes dry out and his mind drift as Ling continues to flirt outrageously with Wu while the prince completely fails to recognize it. It’s annoying, but Mako has decided he won’t pick Ling up and throw him under the waterfall unless Wu sounds uncomfortable or abothered by the attention.

This is, of course, when the park ranger shows up riding an ostrich horse and looking peeved.

“HEY! YOU LOT! THIS IS PROTECTED LAND! GET OUT!”

Wu stands up and waves, “Hey, don’t worry about it, buddy! I’m the Earth King and I say it’s okay!”

The park ranger squints at him, looking unimpressed. “Aren’t you that pretender to the throne I keep hearing about?” The ranger’s beady eyes cut over to Mako. “And you’re the violent criminal helping him!”

“I’m the what?” Mako demands.

The park ranger brandishes a pair of wanted posters. Mako finds himself staring down at a rough sketch of himself. Somehow his eyebrows are even pointier, though, which feels a bit unnecessary.

The park ranger compares their faces to the faces on the posters.

“How did Kuvira get those out so quickly?” Mako mutters.

“She is one determined lady,” Wu agrees, “And she really doesn’t like you.”

“I think she dislikes _you_ more, Mr. Earth King.”

“I don’t know, I didn’t break her train.”

“Shut up.”

“You _are_ these guys!” the park ranger decides.

“Well, fuck,” Mako says.

“We’ll protect you!” Chao declares, gathering up all the flowers they’d collected so far and flinging them at the park ranger, who reels back.

“Hey! Flower party!” another troubadour cheers, scooping up flowers and tossing them at the ostrich horse, who sneezes and sidesteps nervously.

“We’ll cover for you, Sweet Stuff,” Ling says dramatically, “You and Guy get out of here!” He bradishes a tiny flute and lets out a piercing high note that has the ostrich horse shrieking in response. “I’d kiss you dramatically, but, you know, gotta flute!”

“What? Why would you – ?” Wu blurts.

“Running away now, sexuality crisis later,” Mako decides, glaring at Ling and dragging Wu away from the shrieking, sneezing, flower-be-decked ostrich horse, its unfortunate rider, and some truly terrible flute music.

…

They run until they hit a cave.

“Rest – rest now?” Wu wheezes.

Mako is tempted to the let the prince stop to catch his breath, but then he hears a growl deep in the cavern.

“No, no, nope,” he shouts, yanking Wu back as a wolf bat comes charging out, snapping and howling at being disturbed during its daytime rest. Behind it, other wolf bats hear and take up the howl, surging towards them in a wave of wings, teeth, and fur.

“RUNNING, RUNNING NOW, RUNNING AWAY VERY FAST!” Wu shrieks.

“Run away faster!” Mako yells.

…

They’re tired by the time they reach the path. That’s the only excuse Mako can come up with for why they don’t see the places where the path is badly crumbled and in need of repair. As it stands, they’ve made decent progress, haven’t heard from either of their pursuers in long enough that they feel comfortable finally dropping back down to a walking pace, and have made the mistake of assuming they’re safe.

This is, of course, the exact moment Wu steps on a rock wrong. The prince wavers, nearly toppling, when Mako jumps forward to catch him. On most other paths, this would have been fine. As it is, this means the bulk of their combined weight lands on a particularly fragile chunk of trail, which proceeds to crumble like a stale biscuit underneath them.

One minute they’re standing mostly upright. The next they’re falling.

Wu shrieks, Mako swears and hugs the panicked prince closer while firing off a blast of flame from one hand and both feet in an attempt to slow/stabilize their fall.

“QUIT WRIGGLING!” Mako yells, “JUST HOLD ON!”

“WHAT’S HAPPENING, WHAT’S HAPPENING, ARE WE DEAD, WHAT’S HAPPENING?” Wu babble-screams.

They wobble mid-air, crashing into and through a series of small, cliffside shrubs and saplings until they finally hit ground. It’s not flat ground, though. They’re somehow still sliding. Wu is wrapped around Mako’s torso like a terrified limpet. Mako wraps his arms around Wu and blasts fire from his feet to try to at least counter the inexorable drag of gravity. As it is, they plummet-skid their way down a steep hillside, through some very unpleasant bushes and are finally, finally spat out onto some kind of plateau or shelf.

Mako twists around, trying to make sure they don’t shoot across the shelf and out into the void again. Unfortunately, tangled as they are, twisting around is a risky proposition, especially when several limbs are blasting fire-jets. One of the jets ends up pointed the wrong way and shoots them off to the side, where they crash into and tangle with not just each other, but some kind of marquee, which sways, creaks, and collapses on top of them in a heap of silky fabric and lightweight wood.

Mako, whose entire body is starting to feel like one big bruise, groans, and tries to sit up, pulling a whimpering Prince Wu along with him. When he finally wrestles them free of the clinging fabric, they look around, blinking, dazed, and confused, at the wreckage of what had probably been a pretty nice archway, and several rows of furious, frightened, and just plain outraged wedding guests. The couple in the front, standing before the officiant are unabashedly gaping at them.

“Huh.” Wu says weakly. “Well. Um. Hello everyone. Nice wedding you have here.”

Mako groans again.

…

Somehow, they’re allowed to stay. They’re even given seats. The brides, a lovely pair of women named Yan and Song, are extremely gracious considering they literally crashed into the happiest day of their lives.

The ceremony is short and to the point. The brides are radiant and only have eyes for each other. Mako’s just glad they skipped the flowery speechifying, because as nice as it was for the brides to find them seats on short notice, this folding chair is digging into all of his bruises. He cuts his gaze over to Wu, who has to be at least a little bit as battered as he is, but the other man is staring, transfixed, at the two women up front as the officiant binds them in matrimony.

Finally, ceremony complete, everyone gets up to mingle and talk about how beautiful it was. Mako attempts to do the same, but finds all his muscles have locked up in interim and the least agonizingly painful option is actually staying in the uncomfortable chair. At least Wu is here to keep him company.

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” the prince murmurs in a small voice.

“What?” Mako asks. He’s staring at the mouth of the cave behind the platform where the ceremony took place. There’s a sign carved into the rock above it designating it ‘The Cave of Two Lovers – may love always shine brightest in the dark’. Funny, they managed to land at the cave in the song.

“I didn’t know,” Wu shrugs a little helplessly. “You have to understand, in the Upper Ring marriages are arranged. They’re very formal and they’re always about property and heirs. No one really marries for love and we’re taught from a young age that marrying for love is…well…silly. Stupid. Common. Crude.”

Mako is staring at him. Wu hunches his shoulders up and looks away.

“My parents married for love and they were shunned for it. My mother was a civil engineer. My father met her at university. She had all these plans for making the Earth Kingdom better and he fell in love with her, even though she had a big nose and no title. And everyone said he was a fool and that they got what they deserved when they were killed in a train accident.”

“That’s horrible.”

Wu shrugs. “It’s Upper Ring stuff. My great-aunt made it very clear she didn’t expect me to succeed her when she refused to arrange a betrothal for me. She said she didn’t want my mother’s blood to taint _her_ throne. She told me that, right to my face. I was seven, I think. And I was told on no uncertain terms that if I ever did marry it would be for the good of the family.”

“Was that why you were surprised when Ling said he’d kiss you?” Mako asks, the pieces starting to come together.

Wu flushes, “I never knew it was okay. To like someone like that.”

“To what? Just…like someone? Or to like another man?”

“Both, sort of. It’s just not talked about where I’m from. You get married, have heirs, secure your position at court. It’s very…transactional. I didn’t realize it was an option, not really, not for me.” He chuckles a little bitterly, “I feel silly sometimes, Mako.”

“You are silly,” Mako says instantly, bumping the prince’s shoulder with his own. 

Wu chuckles, “There’s just so much about the world I don’t know. About people.”

“Well,” Mako doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s not the comforting type. He’s not the type people pour their hearts out to. He tried to be that with Korra and got a desk thrown at him for his troubles. They were always too similar for comfort. “There’s a lot I don’t know about the world too. We’re learning. Together.”

Wu leans against him. “Thanks, Mako. I wouldn’t want to be stranded in the middle of nowhere with anyone else.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“You’re welcome.”

…

_Dear Mako,_

_YOU ARE GOING TO GIVE ME GRAY HAIRS, I SWEAR._

_Whatever you said to Toph in the swamp made a big impression. Like. Show up to Republic City and try to hash everything out with Lin once and for all big impression. Lin refuses to fight her eighty-two-year-old mother the way she fought Su, so she’s hiding in my office to avoid talking to her, but pretending she’s here on Very Important Business._

_Also, Raiko was being a pain so I stole his favorite pen off his desk. In my defense, he left the room, and it was just there, looking all gold and shiny and he KEEPS TWIRLING IT LIKE A POMPOUS JERK EVERY TIME I MEET WITH HIM – so I took it. But now I don’t know what to do with it, so I’m hiding it in my desk. I need the rest of Team Avatar back; I’m clearly losing my mind._

_Lin is reading this over my shoulder and now she wants Raiko’s pen just so she can take notes in front of him with it. I swear, you two are two peas in a contrary bastard pod sometimes._

_Try to stay in one piece, I’m begging you._

_Best,_

_Asami_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These nomads are 110% descendants of the nomads the gaang met in 'The Cave of Two Lovers'. I re-watched that episode recently and couldn't resist putting Mako in a similar situation.


	10. Frozen Frogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frozen Frogs  
> Dear Asami  
> You may have noticed this is not Mako’s handwriting. That’s because it’s Prince Wu! Mako is ill and has demanded I write you a postcard because “that’s what we do.” But all his dictation is feverish gibberish, so I’m just pretending to write what he’s saying because it really, really doesn’t make any sense.   
> Anyway, I’m sure Mako is thinking of you. Don’t worry about us too much! We’re still lost but we have Jinora now!  
> Cheers,   
> Wu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO READS, REVIEWS, KUDOS-ES, ETC. I READ ALL THE REVIEWS AND THEY KEEP ME MOTIVATED

**Frozen Frogs**

**_Dear Asami_ **

**_You may have noticed this is not Mako’s handwriting. That’s because it’s Prince Wu! Mako is ill and has demanded I write you a postcard because “that’s what we do.” But all his dictation is feverish gibberish, so I’m just pretending to write what he’s saying because it really, really doesn’t make any sense._ **

**_Anyway, I’m sure Mako is thinking of you. Don’t worry about us too much! We’re still lost but we have Jinora now!_ **

**_Cheers,_ **

**_Wu_ **

…

“Just admit you have a cold!” Wu demands, flinging his hands up in the air like that will somehow convince Mako to show weakness. Ha. Nice try Mr. Prince. Mako knows better than to admit he’s sick.

“I’m fine,” Mako rasps. It’s just dusty. Yeah, dusty. That’s why his throat is scratchy. He’s not sick.

“The road is not dusty, you used that excuse yesterday, don’t even try it!” Wu has both hands on his hips and looks five seconds away from shaking a prissy finger at Mako.

“Maybe it’s still dusty. You don’t know the road,” Mako counters. Brilliant. Genius. He’s a savant of comebacks.

“You’re flushed and sweating and aren’t making any sense!”

“I’m a fire bender. We’re warm-blooded.”

“All mammals are warm-blooded, fire benders aren’t special!”

Wow. Insulting much. “Don’t call me a mammal.” Mako has no idea what a mammal is, but it sounds like an insult.

“…all humans are mammals!”

“All humans are stupid shitheads, but you don’t hear me throwing it around all casual.”

Wu is gaping openly at him. “You’re deranged. You’re feverish and deranged.”

“See, I know words. And deranged is an insulting word. You can’t trick me.”

Wu buries his face in his hands. “We’re going to die. We’re going to die because I got Mako sick and he’s the only thing keeping things from killing, maiming, and eating me.”

“Cannibalism is against at least three Republic City legal codes.”

“Good for Republic City. Why does that matter?!”   
Mako blinks at him. “You seemed worried about people eating you.”

“No, I actually _wasn’t_ worried about that, I was worried about ferocious beasts killing and eating me, but I’M WORRIED ABOUT CANNIBALS NOW!”

Mako blinks again, slower. “I would stop the cannibals.”

Wu makes a squeaking noise of pure frustration. Pabu echoes the noise from the prince’s shoulder because ever since they fell down a mountain Pabu seems to think Wu is the safer bet for shoulder-sitting. Which is ridiculous because they _both_ fell down that mountain, and Mako was the one who kept them from going splat at the bottom of it.

No, he’s not jealous of Wu’s rapport with animals. That would be insane.

“Mako, Mako, _Mako_ ,” Wu grabs him by both shoulders and tries to shake him. He fails to shake him because after all the insulting comments Mako isn’t going to let him have the satisfaction. “YOU. ARE. SICK.”

“Nope.”

“YOU CAN’T JUST OPT OUT OF THE TRUTH!”

Mako shrugs and keeps walking.

Wu and Pabu both make the squeaking noise again.

…

Mako is willing to admit, deep in the depths of his mind, that he’s probably sick. He’s a realistic kind of person. He’s had to be to keep up with Bolin’s sheer, rock-headed optimism. But Mako has never had the luxury of nursing his ills or licking his wounds. Weakness was what got you stabbed and robbed in some anonymous alley, leaving your vulnerable baby brother to fend for himself in a world that couldn’t care less about his existence. So Mako has carefully honed his abilities to work through anything. To bare his teeth and snarl twice at loudly, hit twice as hard, burn twice as hot, when his body is betraying him.

He can’t tell Wu he’s sick. The prince will probably try to coddle him. Try to get them to slow down, take a break, whatever it is princes do when they’ve caught the sniffles.

So, yet again it’s on Mako to keep marching forward even as his temperature climbs and his vision swims. He has to keep them moving. He has to keep them safe.

He has to never show weakness.

…

Mako wakes slowly the next morning. The air is syrupy around him and his head weighs as much as Varrick’s stupid train. He blinks. Wonders where Bolin is.

“Bo?” he asks, and his voice doesn’t sound right, either.

He hears chittering to one side and suddenly there’s a red and white furred creature mere finger-widths away from his face. He’d jerk away from it, but his head is the weight of a train and it’s just not worth it once he recognizes Pabu.

“Pabu? Where’s Bo?” he slurs.

Pabu chirps and skitters off again. Typical. Always did like Bolin better than him. Like everyone else on the fucking planet. _Wu_ would probably like Bolin better than Mako, if they ever met.

Wait.

Wu.

Shit.

“Wu? Pabu, where’s Wu?”

Pabu comes scampering back with a blur of green. “Hey, there buddy. You’re pretty sick, huh?”

“Wu? Where’s Bo? We okay?”

“I don’t know who Bo is, buddy.” Wu’s eyebrows bunch up fretfully. Mako wants to press his thumb over the creases between his brows, smooth them back down. He doesn’t. Mostly because his limbs feel like someone filled them with lead and moving just isn’t worth it.

“Bolin,” Mako’s voice is strained to his own ears, “Bro – _Bolin_. Where’s my brother, Bolin?”

Wu’s face doesn’t clear but his expression shifts, “He’s not here.”

A bolt of panic burns its way through Mako’s nervous system. “Where is he? Is he safe?”   
“Yeah, yes, big guy, he’s safe, but you’ve got to calm down. He’s off doing air bender things with his girlfriend. But buddy, if you try charging off all feverish I’m not going to be able to stop you. And I really don’t want you to go charging off all feverish and maybe die in the wilderness. That would be very bad.”

Mako blinks. That does sound very bad. “Yes. Bad.” He agrees.

“Good, glad we’re on the same page.”

“Hmm,” Mako doesn’t want to agree to any of this page-sharing nonsense right away, so he sticks with a noncommittal kind of response.

“Oh, boy,” Wu sighs. “We never can do anything the easy way around here, can we?”

Pabu chitters in agreement.

…

The next day? Few hours? Mako isn’t sure – are a blur of Wu trying to get him to drink water, and trying to get his fever to go down, mostly but putting wet rags on his face, which Mako does _not_ appreciate.

Mako can tell time passes, mostly because the rags dry out periodically, but he has no idea how much. He fades in an out of consciousness, dreams of fire, and spirits, and strangers with the same faces as his friends, chasing each other round and round in his head. He blinks awake once to Wu peering fretfully down at him.

“You’re not getting better. Mako, you have to get better.”

Which. Excuse you, Prince Wu, Mako doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do. He’s a free person.

Mako doesn’t say any of that because he’s dreaming again.

The next time he opens his eyes, he’s fairly certain he’s dreaming again because Avatar Aang, but, like, the young Avatar Aang who defeated Fire Lord Ozai, not Tenzin’s dad Avatar Aang, is peering down at him with worried brown eyes.

“I’m glad I was in the area. It was smart to flag me down, Your Highness.”

“Oh, uh, you don’t have to call me ‘highness’, Master Air Bender.”

“Jinora,” Maybe-not-Avatar-Aang says.

“Master Jinora, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Huh. Not young Avatar Aang, then. That explains why Wu can see the child with the blue tattoo.

“I just wish the circumstances were better,” the air bender frowns down at Mako.

Wait. Mako knows an air bender named Jinora. But she had hair. And no arrows. The dream is trying to trick him! “Stupid dream,” he slurs, “Trying to trick me. Jinora’s not Aang.”

Jinora(?) and Wu share concerned looks.

“He’s feverish,” Wu explains.

“I remember Gran-Gran telling us a story about something like this. When she was traveling with my grandfather, she and Uncle Sokka got sick with some kind of fever. The cure was sucking on frozen frogs from this one swamp.”

“Spirits, not the haunted swamp again,” Wu sags in place.

“Haunted -?” Jinora shakes her head, “No, a different swamp.”

“Hate swamps,” Mako opines because he doesn’t want to be left out of the conversation, even if it is confusing.

“I know,” Wu says soothingly.

Mako sticks his tongue out at the prince, feeling sure he’s being made fun of, but not sure how exactly. Better safe than sorry.

Jinora looks nonplussed at the gesture. “I have never seen Mako do anything like that before.”

“Yeah, normally he’s all buttoned up and stiff and boring. It’s been a weird day.”

Mako frowns. He knows he’s not the fun brother. Everyone knows he’s not the fun brother. But he’s not _boring._ He’s very exciting. He can set things on fire. That’s the most exciting thing you could possibly do to things! He makes sure to tell Wu all of this.

Wu and Jinora look extra perturbed, like they aren’t sold on his ‘fire is awesome’ argument. Which is fair. Fire also kills people. Fire killed his parents.

“Fire might be the worst type of bending,” he says confidently, “But it’s not _boring._ Being the worst of something is _interesting._ And _I’m_ the worst. _Ergo_ , interesting.”

Wu looks like he might cry, which is definitely not what Mako was going for, and Jinora looks like she wants to hug him, which is creepy, so maybe he’s not so good at this talking thing.

“We need to go get some frozen frogs,” Jinora declares. “Load him onto Oogi and we’ll get going.”

“I…might need some help with that,” Wu admits, “Upper body strength is not my forte.”

Mako decides going back to sleep will spare him some discomfort, so he closes his eyes again.

…

He wakes up in the air. He really should be more concerned about that, but he’s sort of beyond caring at this point. Pabu is curled up on his chest, and his head and shoulders are propped up against Wu’s lap.

“You’re awake,” Wu says, voice uncharacteristically soft. He’s running his hands through Mako’s permanently messy hair, which is probably super gross because Mako keeps sweating for some reason, but Wu isn’t complaining, so Mako is going to take the win.

“Ugh,” Mako grunts.

“Mm, you’re having a rough day, aren’t you, big guy?”

“Bleh,” Mako agrees. He doesn’t feel like words right now.

“That’s okay,” Wu says, “Because Jinora and I are going to get you some nice frogs and you’ll start to feel better.”

Frogs don’t sound like they would make anyone, anywhere, feel better, but Mako is willing to give them a shot. “Mm,” he agrees.

Wu keeps combing gentle fingers through his hair. It’s nice, like how his mom used to sooth him back to sleep when his brain wouldn’t stop running through all the ways everything ever could go wrong.

And then, of course, everything ever went wrong in the one way he’d never planned for and he’d had to adapt.

“Who told you fire bending was the worst kind of bending?” Wu asks, quietly.

Mako snorts, “Life.”

“But your fire bending is so beautiful, and you use it so magnificently. How is that the worst?”

“Fire benders kill people. Killed my parents. Killed Asami’s mom. Killed the fire Air Nation. Fire kills.”

“Hmm,” Wu hums, “I don’t know. I think all the types of bending can do that. Air bending killed my great-aunt. And metal bending is tearing the Earth Kingdom apart. And you said Unalaaq was a water bender. And that Amon fellow from the news a year or so ago, he was a blood bender. And my great-aunt was a horrible tyrant and she never bent an element in her life. Don’t blame the fire because it burns. Blame the people who use it to burn other people.”

“He’s right,” Jinora agrees, kneeling next to him. “Zaheer was the scariest man I’ve ever met. He was an air bender, like me, but he didn’t care about any of the things Dad made sure to teach me and my siblings about being air benders. To him, respecting and cherishing life, the most important tenet of our culture, our philosophy…was just another restriction on his so-called ‘freedom’. He took a beautiful, powerful gift and used it to hurt people. To destroy lives. I was afraid, because that meant that I could do those things too. And when I saw what he did to Korra…part of me wanted to. But I didn’t.”

Mako blinks hazily at her. She’s so young. He thinks about when he was her age. If someone had done a fraction of what Zaheer done to Korra to Bolin, he would have burned them alive.

“You use your bending to protect people,” Wu says, “you protected me all this time. Even when I told you not to.”

Mako doesn’t know what to say to any of that, and his brain feels like lukewarm soup, so he just turns his face away and buries it in Wu’s jacket.

“Maybe we should have waited until he was less feverish to have the big philosophy talk, huh?” Wu says lightly.

“I don’t know,” Jinora says, “This way he’s a captive audience.”

Ha. Mako knew deep down she had a little deviousness of her own.

…

Mako wakes up fully coherent for the first time in days to a wriggling, slimy, _something_ in his mouth.

He immediately spits the thing out, gagging. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?” he shouts, scrubbing at his face as a frog ribbits and hops away from him. “That had better not have been in my mouth,” he growls at Wu when the other man approaches.

Wu props one hand on his hip, and frowns down at him, “Wow, no ‘thank you, Wu’? I went into a swamp for that frog! I ruined a perfectly good pair of socks for you!”

“Why was I eating a frog?” Mako demands.

“You got sick; it was the only cure! Jinora said so!”

“Jinora?” Mako frowns, “Since when do you talk to Jinora?”

“Since he flagged me down when I was passing by on Oogi,” the girl explains, approaching. She looks good, her eyes bright, her arrow shining on her bristly head. “You were really out of it. Wu was right to be worried.”

Mako scowls on principle but he can’t really argue with people so genuinely concerned with his health and well-being.

“Pabu was worried about you,” Wu huffs, the fire ferret in question chasing after the frog as it frantically tries to hop away.

“Yeah. Real torn up about me, I see,” Mako says dryly. “Thank you, _Master_ Jinora,” he emphasizes the ‘master’ just to make her grin like the kid he hopes she still gets the chance to be these days.

“What? No thanks for Wu? Your faithful companion and nurse?!” the prince protests.

“You’re welcome, Mako,” Jinora says with mock-seriousness.

Wu throws his hands in the air and huffs dramatically.

Mako raises his eyebrows. Jinora rolls her eyes. For a moment it’s like they never left air temple island.

…

“So, still hanging out with that punk?” Mako asks as Jinora loads Oogi back up. She’d regretfull told them she was on a time-sensitive supply run to Omashu and wouldn’t be able to return them to Republic City. Wu had assured her they had things well in hand and weren’t lost at all, just taking the scenic route. Jinora’s blank stare had told them exactly how much of _that_ she believed.

“You mean Kai?” Jinora asks sweetly. “And yes. He’s nice.”

Mako snorts. “You’re too good for him.”

Jinora laughs, “I thought you and Kai settled your differences.”

“We’ll settle our differences when he settles my wallet back in my hand,” Mako grumps playfully.

Jinora snickers, “Good luck with that.”

Mako chuckles, “Told you, he’s a punk.”

“Mako,” Jinora pauses, suddenly serious, “I don’t know how much you remember, but when you were feverish, you said some things. And I don’t think you meant for us to hear them, but…I’m worried about you.”

Mako stiffens, “You don’t need to worry about me. You’re a kid. It’s not your job to worry about me. I’m fine.” He mentally kicks himself at how similar he sounds to Lin. He really is like a turtleduckling with her. Toph was right.

Jinora looks sad, “But Mako, you’re a kid too.”

Mako snorts, “I haven’t been a kid in a long time.”

Jinora reaches out and rests a hand on his arm. “Kai’s a lot like you. He keeps all this stuff inside. All his problems, and, when he cares about someone, all their problems too. You said fire bending was the worst kind of bending. That you were the worst. That’s not true. You care, Mako. You care so much. You protect people, just like Kai. Your fire bending is good because _you’re_ good and you use it for _good_ reasons. And when you make mistakes, you try to do better.”

Mako blinks, eyes suddenly burning. He looks away, not wanting to meet Jinora’s big, deep eyes. He swallows, blinking hard to beat back whatever emotion is trying to choke him.

“Thanks, kid,” he finally rasps. “You’re turning out more and more like your mom every day. And, if what Korra’s told me is right…you’re a lot like Aang, too.”

Jinora’s face lights up in a big, sweet grin. “Thanks, Mako.”

Mako frowns, “You want a hug or something?”

“Yeah, kinda,” the girl admits.

Mako sighs and opens his arms, playing at grudging. “Fine, come on, then.”

“Group hug!” Wu calls, crashing into Mako’s other side, all wild limbs and hair, while Jinora laughs.

…

_Dear Mako/Wu,_

_You two, I swear. How do these things always happen to you? How did you get so off-track you’re on Jinora’s route???? Did you try the frog thing, I read somewhere that worked for Avatar Aang when Sokka and Katara were sick?_

_Oh, and if Lin and Toph’s melodrama wasn’t enough, Bolin and Opal are here now! I’m not telling Bolin you’re sick, he’s already worried to death about your dumb ass. Kuvira tried to recruit him, but Opal had told him about the wanted posters for you and he said, and I quote “Hard pass, people who try to kill my brother are not trustworthy…byeeeeee” and melted a hole in her train running away. I guess her plan B was capturing him and using him as bait for you and Wu????_

_So now he and Opal are here, and Opal is trying to mediate between Lin and Toph, which is going about as well as you’d expect, and Bolin is trying to convince Tenzin to let him borrow a sky bison to go looking for you (Tenzin said no), and I STILL HAVE RAIKO’S PEN AND HE’S BEEN BY TO LOOK FOR IT TWICE._

_Senna says Korra’s improving slowly, but that’s all I’ve heard._

_Hiding under my desk in case Toph and Lin start fighting for real,_

_Asami_


	11. The Great Divide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Asami,   
> Ever heard of ‘The Great Divide’? Yeah, I hadn’t either until I almost go eaten by weird bug things there. Good times.  
> Wu says hi and wants to know if you’ll be his best friend. Apparently, I’m being replaced here.   
> Tired and covered in dirt AGAIN,  
> Mako  
> P.S. Wu here, and I can so have multiple best friends, if I want, Mako.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOODNESS, THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO COMMENTED!!! Seriously, y'all make my day and keep me constantly inspired. 
> 
> This chapter might be a little weird? Idk, I haven't been feeling very well lately; I changed one of my regular medications recently and side effects have been kicking my butt. I should be fine soon, though, so that's good :) 
> 
> Stay well, friends!

**The Great Divide**

_Dear Asami,_

_Ever heard of ‘The Great Divide’? Yeah, I hadn’t either until I almost go eaten by weird bug things there. Good times._

_Wu says hi and wants to know if you’ll be his best friend. Apparently, I’m being replaced here._

_Tired and covered in dirt AGAIN,_

_Mako_

**_P.S. Wu here, and I can so have multiple best friends, if I want, Mako. _ **

…

“Well, you don’t look like you’re dying.”

“Hello to you too, Kai.”

The air bender rolls his eyes as he slides down his bison. Lefty has grown since Mako last saw him, but is still tiny compared to Oogi. “You couldn’t even pretend to be surprised, could you?” 

“Nope,” Mako grins, reaching out to ruffle Kai’s hair. He doesn’t let go once the boy’s hair is thoroughly mussed and Kai glares at him.

“What are you doing, weirdo?”

“Keeping you at arm’s length,” Mako says, smirking, “I don’t want my wallet to go missing. Again.”

Kai grins back, folding his arms and trying strike a pose despite Mako’s grip on his head, “Hey, I’m a changed man. Turned over a new leaf. I’m all _respectable_ and everything now,” he says, dragging out the syllables on ‘respectable’.

“Yeah? Because you still look like the punk who stole my wallet,” Mako teases.

Kai presses both hands to his chest and widens his eyes, “Who, me? Noble air bender? Hero of the people? _Me_?”

Mako sighs and shakes his head, dropping his hand with one last hair-ruffle, “It’s good to see you, punk.”

“Hug?” Kai holds out his arms.

“Nope,” Mako grins.

“Bully,” Kai puts his arms down and sticks out his tongue, “Where’s the prince? Maybe he’ll treat me with a little dignity.”

“I wouldn’t put money on it. He doesn’t have enough dignity for himself, much less freeloaders,” Mako drawls. “And he’s over there,” he points towards the rough camp the refugees they’ve been traveling with managed to set up. “I’m guessing Tenzin sent you to check on them?”

Kai grimaces, “As much as I’d like to say I had the free time to come check on you,”

“Make fun of me,” Mako corrects. He knows pre-teens. He raised a preteen. While a teenager himself.

“-gently mock you,” Kai admits, “I’m really here for them.”

Mako grimaces, “How bad is it, really?”

Kai raises both eyebrows, “However bad you think it is – but worse.”

Mako presses his lips together. He’d thought as much.

“There were riots all over as soon as everyone found out the Queen was really dead. And we already knew the bandits were out of control.”

“They’re worse now,” Mako adds.

Kai nods, “Yeah. And Kuvira’s ‘reconstruction’ seems to involve a lot of tearing down villages and rebuilding them to serve her war machine.”

Mako runs a hand down his face. He doesn’t want to have to deal with this. He’s an eighteen-maybe-nineteen-year-old street rat. He isn’t the Avatar. He isn’t a Sato. He’s just…a person. But then he looks at Wu, who’s just a person. At Kai, who’s in the same leaky boat Mako is, just with the added bonus of representing a recently and tenuously resurrected culture, and he realizes all over again that’s what the kind of people who deal with big, world changing problems are. Just people. And right now, he’s one of those people.

“Fuck,” Mako summarizes.

“Yep,” Kai agrees.

Mako side-eyes him. “Don’t tell Tenzin I swear around you.”

Kai places a dramatic hand over his heart, “I solemnly promise not to tell Master Tenzin you’re a terrible influence corrupting my pure and innocent mind.”

“You’re the worst child I ever met.”

“Meelo will be crushed to hear I beat him.”

…

Wu is immediately charmed by Kai because of course he is.

“You’re like a mini-Mako,” the prince laughs the minute he sees them. Mako looks down and to the side to see that he and Kai have accidentally been mirroring each other, standing the exact same neutral pose with one hand on one hip and the other hanging loose, ready for action.

Mako immediately drops the hand from his hip and folds his arms. “Wu, meet Kai, one of the new air benders.”

Wu’s smiles, spine straightening as something almost courtly takes over his posture. “On behalf of the Earth Kingdom, I, Crown Prince Wu of the Hou-Ting dynasty, apologize for the actions my great-aunt took against our air bender citizens. We hope this will not negatively impact our relationship with the New Air Nation during the course of our reign.”

“Uh,” Kai shuffles his feet, and scrubs at the back of his head, “it’s all good.”

Wu bows in acknowledgement and smiles, royal stiffeness dropping from his limbs as if it was never there. “Well, that sure is a relief. A real load off my mind. Now, is this your bison? What’s his name? Can I pet him? Does he understand human speech? Does he like music?”

“Uh, that’s Lefty.” Kai still looks a little nonplussed by Wu’s…everything. It’s actually pretty funny. Mako doesn’t think he’s ever seen Kai this thrown.

Pabu, who had been curled up, napping, on the back of Lefty’s neck, raises his head and chirrs happily at Wu. Lefty, seeing the prince receive the fire ferret’s seal of approval, lumbers over to nudge at Wu with his shaggy head.

Wu laughs delightedly, “Oh, hello, you!” He immediately reaches up to scratch at the bison’s forehead, “You’re a handsome fellow, aren’t you? You know, when I was little, I wanted desperately to be an air bender? I always wanted to have a pet and I figured if I was an air bender, I would have to have an air bison and my aunt couldn’t take it away from me because we’d just fly off when she was being mean.”

Kai shoots Mako a look. “He’s really into sharing, isn’t he?”

Mako, who would rather pry out a tooth with his bare hands than admit to a feeling most days, nods, “It’s really weird.”

Kai shakes his head, “He’d fit right in on Air Temple Island. They’re all about sharing and feelings and stuff.”

“Creepy, isn’t it?”

“Creepy,” Kai agrees.

“So where are we headed, Mr. Air Bender?” Wu asks cheerily, still petting the bison, who looks about ready to switch loyalties over to the prince, air bender or not.

Kai sighs, “Well, I can’t carry anyone else long distances on Lefty without exhausting him. So, we’re going to have to walk. And the most direct route is through The Great Divide.”

Mako doesn’t know what ‘The Great Divide’ is, but he doesn’t like the sound of it. From the way Wu lights up, it might be somewhere fun. But seeing as he lit up like that at the thought of crossing Serpent’s Pass just because Avatar Aang had been there once, Mako doesn’t think Wu is a reliable gauge for danger.

“Oh, I’ve heard of that place! Avatar Aang-” see, unreliable, “and his companions escorted some refugees through there during the 100-year war!”

“So, it’s the home of some kind of creature there that will probably try to eat us,” Mako summarizes.

“How did you know about the canyon crawlers?” Wu asks.

“Everywhere we’ve been that Avatar Aang visited has featured creatures that want to eat us.”

“Name one.”

“Serpent’s Pass.”

“Well, that’s obvious, it’s in the name. What kind of ‘Serpent’s Pass’ would it be without a serpent?”

“The swamp.”

“Technically nothing actually tried to eat us.”

“I heard creatures moving. Hunting creatures. Hungry, hunting creatures.”

“That did not technically attempt to eat us.”

“Fine, Cave of Two Lovers. The wolfbats.”

Wu frowns. “Alright. I’ll give you that one.”

“Thank you.”

Kai is staring at them like they’re some kind of fascinating new sport. “Are things…always like this with you two?”

“What?” Mako frowns at him, “Why are you making that face?”

Kai shrugs, “No reason. Just some stuff Jinora said makes _a lot_ of sense now.”

Mako decides he doesn’t want to know.

…

The refugees are perfectly pleasant people. The refugees are perfectly pleasant people. The refugees are perfectly pleasant, extremely chatty, personal-space-invading, over-sharing, people.

“You’ve set a terrible precedent,” he mutters under his breath at Wu, feeling extremely jealous of Kai as the air bender boy soars above them on his bison.

“Whatever do you mean, dear Mako?” Wu says, smiling sunnily.

“They all think it’s ok to touch me. And talk to me. And smile at me.”

“I hadn’t realized you had an issue with smiling. Other than your aversion to doing it yourself.”

Mako knows Wu is teasing him. He has the teasing glint flashing in his green eyes and a smile playing around his lips. This close Mako can see the dark freckles the sun has picked out against the prince’s brown skin. With his curls and smiles they just make Wu look younger. Sweeter. It’s unaccountably irritating.

“They’re so _social_.”

“You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”

“What?” Mako frowns at him. Wu’s been doing that more lately. It’s as if a combination of the troubadours’ (horrible) influence, and seeing Mako sick and vulnerable has flicked a compliment-Mako switch in Wu’s brain. It’s very uncomfortable.

Wu bumps his shoulder with Mako’s. “Maybe that’s why they keep talking to you. There’s something about a cute grump. Makes you want to cheer them up.”

“Being left alone would cheer me up,” Mako mutters, knowing he sounds like a toddler and not particularly caring. It’s just Wu. He doesn’t have to be a grown-up all the time around Wu.

“There, there,” Wu pats his shoulder condescendingly.

Mako glares at him.

Wu beams right back. Somewhere behind him there’s a crash and a chorus of voices calling for help from ‘the fire bender guy’.

“Your adoring public awaits.”

Mako frowns and flicks him between the eyebrows before stomping off to deal with the most recent packing disaster.

…

They reach the Great Divide and Mako confirms his suspicion that it is, indeed, an inhospitable and unpleasant-looking place. Probably full of creatures that want to kill and eat them.

Behind him, Wu is regaling the refugee children with a story about Avatar Kyoshi. The children, for some reason, utterly adore Wu. They like Mako in the same way Pabu likes Mako: they seem to have unanimously judged him good for climbing and chattering at by otherwise unremarkable. Wu, meanwhile, was almost immediately accepted as a full-fledged member of their little band of miscreants.

Kai swoops down on Lefty. “Alright, everybody, listen up!”

No one listens up.

Mako sighs and puts two fingers in his mouth and lets off an ear-piercing whistle the likes of which Lin Beifong would be proud of, barking “OI, LISTEN UP!” when everyone stops talking to stare at him.

Everyone clams up immediately and turns towards Kai.

Mako is a little smug about that. There’s something very satisfying about getting the attention of a group of people all at once. Maybe he’ll teach Wu how to do it. His Majesty the Earth King can start all his royal speeches and things off with a good old-fashioned Republic City cab-hailing whistle.

“Ok, everybody,” Kai says, “This is the Great Divide. It’s technically a nature preserve now, but it’s the most direct route. It only takes a day to cross on foot, maybe a day and a half since we don’t have an earth bender with us. BUT this is the natural habitat for canyon crawlers. And canyon crawlers will eat anything. Including people. The only surefire way to keep them from coming after you is to bring NO FOOD AT ALL into the canyon with you.”

A wave of discontented murmuring rises up at that.

“Luckily, we have Lefty!” Kai says. “He can carry all our food over for us. We’ll meet up on the other side and still have plenty of supplies for the rest of the journey.”

No one seems very happy about this compromise.

“But what are we supposed to eat in the canyon,” shouts someone, “Dirt?”

“Leaves?” another smart-ass suggests.

“Twigs?”

“Rocks?”

Mako rolls his eyes. “DO YOU WANT TO BE WELL FED OR DO YOU WANT TO BE DEAD? YOU PICK!” he roars over the grumbling.

Wu grimaces at him. Mako just shrugs. Sure, it’s not the most delicate phrasing he could have come up with, but it got the point across.

“Alright,” Kai claps his hands together, smiling a rictus-grin sort of smile, “load your food up on Lefty, and let’s get this show on the road!”

As soon as the kid slides off the bison, Mako leans over to mutter, “How much you want to bet one of these people is going to smuggle food in?”

Kai snorts, shooting him a look, “Bad bet. Better to bet on _how many_ people try to smuggle food in.”

Mako might be warming up to the punk. It’s kind of nice to have a tiny cynic on your side.

…

It takes so long loading Lefty and dealing with the subsequent bickering between families over ration distribution they wind up using the leftover food for dinner and making camp on the rim of the canyon. Wu keeps the children entertained while Mako helps light fires and cook dinner. He’s gathering up dishes for cleanup when he overhears Kai chatting with the prince and pauses, arms full of dirty dishes, to listen.

“You’re lucky you got Mako,” Kai is saying, “he might actually manage to get you out of this place alive. He’s got like a sixth sense for shady people.”

“What if I’m shady?” Wu jokes, clearly not getting it.

“Nah, I’m serious,” Kai counters, “He tagged me as shady the minute he met me. All his friends believed my sob story. Not him. He sizes me up and tells me he’s got his eye on me. He took me aside later and told me not to pull any shit with these people. That they’re good people who want to do the right thing and don’t deserve whatever bullshit I’ve got going.” Kai chuckles. “A couple days later I stole his wallet and stranded him and Bolin in the Lower Ring. No reason. I just thought it was funny. Joke’s on me, I got captured.

“And he was right again, you know? The others? Master Tenzin, and Jinora, and Korra, and everyone? They all came to get me. They rescued me even though I was a brat. Because they’re good people.

“So, listen to him if he tells you something’s up. He’s probably right.”

Wu sighs. “He was right about Kuvira. I believed her even when he told me not to. He had to rescue me. We blew up part of a train. I was drugged. It was very exciting.”

“Your life is bonkers.”

“A little bit, yeah.”

Mako leaves them to it, smiling a little bit to himself and shaking his head. He’s not sure if any of that was a compliment, but he’ll take it.

…

They have beautiful weather the next day. Full sun. Not a cloud in the sky.

“Today is off to a terrible start,” Mako tells Wu.

“Shush, you, it’s beautiful outside,” says Wu, who has clearly never tried to move a large group of people anywhere under full sun before.

The complaining begins about halfway down the path carved into the canyon wall. Most of it is, unfortunately, directed at Mako. He supposes that’s what he gets for being taller than Wu and Kai. He’s easier to spot and corner.

“It’s too hot.”

“Drink some water.”

“Where’s the water?”

“You should have a flask on you. Everyone was told to fill up before we left.”

“Well _I_ didn’t hear anything about that.”

“You should have. I shouted it. Three times.”

And.

“It’s too hot.”

“Stick to the shade as much as possible.”

“What shade? It’s full sun!”

“See the overhang from the path above us? Shade.”

“Well it’s not very good shade.”

And.

“It’s too hot.”

“Yes, it is.”

“If you people hadn’t started us so late, it wouldn’t be this hot.”

“Take it up with the people who refused to rise at dawn like they were supposed to.”

When Wu slouches next to Mako and sighs, the fire bender has resolved to only answering questions, and only those questions which could be answered with ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Responding to complaints is just pointless.

“It’s too hot,” Wu whines.

Mako glares at him, “Yes, and for my next fire bending trick, I’ll REDUCE THE SIZE OF THE SUN.”

Wu frowns at him. “Are you being this cranky with the refugees?”

“Don’t you get on my case, too.”

“Maybe if you take your shirt off, they’ll be so stunned by your manly beauty they’ll stop complaining,” Wu suggests, fanning himself with one hand.

Mako huffs. “No.”

Wu shrugs, “Well, I’m out of ideas, then.”

Mako huffs again and doesn’t respond.

…

It’s almost a relief when the canyon crawlers attack. Yes, people are screaming and running everywhere and there are giant bug-creatures trying to rip them limb from limb, but no one is complaining to Mako about it.

“Someone brought food!” one of the adults accuses the group. Mako isn’t sure how exactly that’s relevant right now, but Mako has always been an actions-over-words kind of guy. Maybe they get some sort of existential satisfaction from blaming someone else for the problem at hand. Mako, for one, would rather just solve the problem.

There are three canyon crawlers. They’re huge insectoid things with spiny, dark carapaces and viciously sharp pinchers.

Pabu took one look at them, shrieked, and ducked under Mako’s collar. Mako doesn’t blame him. He’d hide in a larger, more powerful creature’s shirt and let them deal with the danger too if he could.

Since that isn’t an option, he’s focused on keeping the monsters in sight and away from the unarmed, non-bender civilians. Wu is working on crowd control, but there’s only so much he can do in the face of enormous, man-eating insects.

Mako grimaces and sends a bolt of electricity at a canyon crawler right before it sinks its pinchers into a child. “GET OUT OF HERE,” he yells at the kid as the insect creature reels away, joints still sparking. The child doesn’t need to be told twice, it picks up a rock and hurls it at the thing while it’s still weakened before running to the clump of adults gathered around Wu.

The prince has rallied the refugees a little, getting them gathered together, with the children in the middle of the huddle. The more capable adults have followed the child’s example and scooped up chunks of stone and are hurling them at the canyon crawlers with limited success.

Mako snarls and hurls a fireball at a canyon crawler’s eye as it creeps too close to the refugees and Wu. Somewhere behind him he can hear the roar of Kai’s air bending as the boy whips up a whirlwind to drive back the third crawler.

“KAI, WE NEED A PLAN!” Mako shouts to the boy.

“LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU HAVE ONE, SMART GUY,” Kai snarks back.

Never mind. Mako doesn’t like having a tiny cynic around anymore.

He punches fire at the crawler he electrocuted. Somehow, it’s still up and moving. Its friend is obviously dazed from the fireball, but doesn’t seem to be incapacitated. The refugees are doing their best to stick together and watch each other’s backs, but they’re uncoordinated and not used to combat.

Mako swears and ducks, a pincher narrowly missing his shoulder as he swerves out of the way of a fourth crawler. Kai shouts “MORE INCOMING,” behind him a few seconds too late and Mako slams a fist into the ground, sending a wave of heat into the stone, cracks splintering out through the packed earth around him. The crawlers shriek and skitter away from the super-heated ground, snapping their pinchers with displeasure.

Mako shoves himself upright again, fire flaring around his hands, when a very different shriek catches his ear. He turns to see a clump of children – the same children Wu had been telling stories to and leading sing-alongs with yesterday – standing on a rocky outcropping.

“HEY BUG-THINGS,” one the children, who can’t be older than nine or ten, yells, holding up a bag, “HERE’S THE FOOD YOU WANTED!”

Somewhere over with the main group, one of the adults shout, “That’s my bag!” only to be shouted down by the others.

“YOU WANT IT? COME GET IT!” the child yells to the crawlers, who have all reoriented themselves toward the children.

The children don’t seem to recognize the danger they’re in. They caterwaul a war cry, raising sticks and chunks of stone.

There’s a moment where everything hangs suspended. Mako’s mind is racing. Between him and Kai, he’s the closest, and he’s still too far away. The clump of refugees around Wu are closer, but none of them are benders, and neither are the children. And they’ve all seen how fast the canyon crawlers can move.

Mako’s running, trying to find the cold, calm center he needs to call up more lighting. It’s his best, most precise distance weapon, and it’s better than nothing, even if it doesn’t seem to keep these things down for long. He knows he won’t reach the children in time, but he’ll try. Raava in a teapot, he’ll try. Kai calls up another whirlwind, trying to use air bending to make up the distance, but he’s no master and he’s had his bending less than a year.

And then Mako sees it. Sees him. And his heart nearly stops.

Wu is a green blur as he flies from the clump of frightened adults and younger children. He shoots Mako a look, clearly already breathing hard. Princes aren’t meant to rigorous exercise, isn’t that what he always said every time he whined and begged Mako to carry him places? Princes aren’t meant for vigorous exercise.

Wu’s closest to the children. The crawlers are bearing down on him and he’s so small, so very small compared to those things and he isn’t a bender, isn’t like Asami, with her gauntlets and years of martial arts training. He doesn’t even carry a pocketknife. He’s quite possibly the most useless person in a fight Mako’s ever met and yet, and yet here he is being an utter, complete _moron_ and Mako _isn’t close enough_.

Wu snatches the bag of food from the children and turns to Mako and Kai, yelling over the racket of the screaming children, shrieking crawlers, and lingering brushfires from Mako’s fight with the first two crawlers. “CATCH!”

_What?_ Mako doesn’t even have time to mentally finish the sentence before the bag of food is soaring over and around him and Kai and crashing into the leading crawler. It bursts at the seams, scattering trail rations all over the crawler. Its companions make a sound like a landslide, like a train derailing, at the sight of all that food.

The crawlers don’t stare each other down, this isn’t a frozen moment like last time. They shift instantly from chasing the children to attacking each other in a flurry of pinchers and sharp mandibles.

Mako skids to a halt, spinning around and bolting for Kai.

“KAI, KAI! REMEMBER WHAT JINORA DID TO ZAHEER? THE WHIRLWIND!”

Kai skids to a halt, nearly crashing into Mako, and, to his credit, doesn’t even question it, just falls into the air bending form, wind already curling up around him. Mako echoes his movements, letting tendrils of fire coil around and through Kai’s air currents. The air, already hot, becomes furnace-like around them. Sweat burns in Mako’s eyes but he doesn’t close them, he can’t. He sees Wu gather the children together. His hair is mussed, his green jacket covered in dust. Mako’s sure his eyes are wide and scared the way they get every time something nearly kills them, but he’s still standing, looking like a green giant among the children.

And the whirlwind is working. They’ve angled it. It isn’t quite like the one Jinora used against Zaheer. This one is tilted, sucking in the crawlers horizontally. What began as ribbons of fire have become sheets of flame and every time a crawler hits the outer wall of the vortex everything smells like burning carapace.

They’ve gathered up all the crawlers. They’re both shaking and soaked through with sweat. They can’t let the crawlers reach them, they’re in no condition to fight them.

“KAI, REVERSE THE VORTEX,” Mako shouts.

Kai, smart kid that he is, doesn’t argue, he just does. Mako follows suit, keeping pace with the air bender’s work as slowly the funnel they’ve made bends, warps, and changes. They speed up almost unconsciously. The funnel switches directions like a tightly wound spring that’s tension has suddenly been released. The crawlers are roughly and abruptly ejected from the cone of fire they’d been dragged into, hurled away like the payload from a catapult.

The winds die down around them as Mako and Kai watch the knot of smoking, thrashing, struggling canyon crawlers flies off into the distance.

Kai slumps to the dirt. Sheer stubbornness is the only thing keeping Mako from following suit. Stubbornness, and the persistent worry like ice-water in his veins when he doesn’t immediately see Wu through the cloud of dust his and Kai’s little show kicked up.

“Wu?” Mako yells, “Wu? WU, ANSWER ME!”

Kai groans and gestures sharply behind him, tamping down the dust all at once, revealing the refugees, physically unscathed but bug-eyed, and rattled after everything, and a familiar green-coated figure.

“Mako!” Wu flings himself into a hug, and it’s a sure sign of Mako’s exhaustion that the prince’s slight weight nearly sends him down to the ground with Kai.

Mako isn’t a hugger. Even when he was a child and had parents and a house and a future, he wasn’t a hugger outside of family members. But he doesn’t even think before wrapping both arms around Wu’s back when the prince’s arms go around his neck.

“Raava in a teapot, what the flying fuck were you thinking?” Mako growls.

“Oh, so you can make a _fire tornado_ , but I’m the reckless one?” Wu hisses back, but his voice is wobbly and wet like he’s nearing the weepy side of shock.

“You could have _died._ ”

“ _You_ could have died.”   
“I’m a lot more durable than you,” Mako’s voice is rough. Probably from all the shouting. And the dust. His eyes are burning from the dust too.

“Those kids…” Wu mumbles into his chest, “What kind of king would I be…if I let kids…”

“Spirits, Wu, you can’t, you didn’t,” Mako runs out of words.

“Can you two do this weird thing later?” Kai groans from the ground, “I need a hand up, and we need to get out of here.”

“You left the air bender on the _ground_?” Wu pulls back to frown at him.

“He’s fine!” Mako objects.

“He’s twelve!”

“So?”   
“So you should be more concerned about the twelve year old on the _ground._ ”

Mako looks over at Kai. “You alright?”

Kai gives him a thumbs up. “Not even scratched. Just tired.”

“See, he’s just tired,” Mako tells Wu.

Wu does not look impressed.

…

“You know, this is why Pema doesn’t want you to babysit,” Kai informs him as Mako carries him like a backpack.

“In what universe is ‘bug creatures trying to kill us’ a reason for Pema to not let me babysit? Not that I want to babysit. Meelo is the worst child I know.”

“No, I mean, buddy, your standards for what acceptable levels of danger and combat are child-appropriate are just super fucked up.”

“Well…so are yours.” Mako can’t come up with a better comeback. He would be ashamed of this if he wasn’t so tired.

“Yep,” Kai agrees. “Look, we’re bonding! Bolin will be so happy!”

Mako sighs.

“Wait, you said _I_ was the worst child you knew,” Kai says suspiciously.

“Yeah, well, you helped save all our lives again, so congrats. You’re second worst now.”

“…will I be worst again if I tell you I stole your wallet like, as soon as you picked me up?”

“Yes, yes you will.”

“Cool. I totally stole your wallet.”

“I hate that you take pride in this.”

“Mako, you’d better not be bullying that child!” Wu calls over to them.

“Shut up,” Mako grumbles at Kai before the kid can make some smartass comment.

…

_Mako,_

_…How do these things keep happening to you????_

_Raiko came over to talk to me about city planning because my office wasn’t loud and crowded enough! Toph had grabbed his fucking pen and was using it to poke Bolin and demand to know why he thought he was good enough to date her granddaughter. This was 100% an evasive maneuver to avoid engaging with Lin, who was listing her grievances with Toph at top volume (once you crack that woman’s armor it’s like a dam breaking – all her bottled-up emotions are just so…intense)._

_And Raiko walks in and see THE Toph Beifong holding his pen and he just…freezes. And he goes “Ms. Beifong…why do you have that pen?”  
And Toph just glares vaguely at his chest and says “I’m a metal bender. It’s metal, isn’t it?” and goes back to hassling Bolin. _

_Raiko was completely speechless. I’ve never seen his face go that color. He just left after that. I think he saw the brewing tropical storm Beifong and chose to retreat._

_Why do all our friends have insane families?_

_Hoping you haven’t gotten eaten by bugs,_

_Asami_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raiko's pen is its own character at this point, lol. It's gone through a journey. At this rate it'll need a season 3 redemption arc and a quirky friend group. 
> 
> Also, I feel extremely cheated that we never got a mentor/scrappy-kid interaction with Mako and Kai, can you tell?


	12. Prison Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Asami,  
> We’re running low on money so we’ve stopped at a port town and are trying to lay low and make some cash. Wu got his first blisters/callouses and legitimately thought he was dying of a ‘weird skin disease, Mako, no, really, if I’m dead tomorrow please spare no expense to give me a funeral worthy of my name’.  
> He didn’t think it was funny when I told him I’d cremate him for free.   
> Sunburnt and impoverished,   
> Mako

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO READS AND REVIEWS!!!
> 
> Me to my best friend, who reads all my fic: Plot or shenanigans for the next chapter?  
> Friend: Plot!  
> Me: heh heh...u may regret that
> 
> So, please direct all your ire at them. This is their fault entirely.

**Prison Part 1**

_Dear Asami,_

_We’re running low on money so we’ve stopped at a port town and are trying to lay low and make some cash. Wu got his first blisters/callouses and legitimately thought he was dying of a ‘weird skin disease, Mako, no, really, if I’m dead tomorrow please spare no expense to give me a funeral worthy of my name’._

_He didn’t think it was funny when I told him I’d cremate him for free._

_Sunburnt and impoverished,_

_Mako_

***this postcard was found unaddressed, left behind in an empty room at The Happy Fish Inn and Tavern, and was never sent***

…

Wu is laughing about something one of the other kitchen helpers said to him during breakfast service, Pabu chittering on his shoulder, when Mako spots the green uniforms.

“And then he – Mako?” Wu stops, mid-story, head tilting to the side as he tries to see what Mako’s staring at.

“ _Don’t look at them,_ ” Mako hisses, grabbing the prince’s elbow and pulling him closer, as if mere proximity can keep them safe.

“Those are Kuvira’s people.” Wu’s voice is small. He chuckles weakly, “Well, they’ve gotten some spiffy new uniforms in the last few months, haven’t they?”

He’s right. Before, Kuvira’s people wore the same uniforms as Su’s security teams, just with the rank and insignia stripped off. Their outfits now are similar, but with harsher lines, bolder design, and more metal. Mako wonders cynically what the metal shoulder pads are for – protection, or insurance in case an underling defies their metal-bending commanding officer.

“We have to go,” Mako says tightly. His heart and thrumming in his ears and he swallows back the emotion that rises to the surface at the thought of being caught, of being trapped, of being powerless in a way he hasn’t been since he was a child. Of what Kuvira will do to Wu, who is bright, and happy, and only wants to help but doesn’t always know how.

Wu nods, curls obscuring one eye. His hair has grown a lot. It’s been almost a year since all this began, after all. Mako helps him trim it when the sides start to look scruffy, but Wu always lets the top get too long and fall in his eyes, because he thinks it makes him look ‘rakish and dashing’.

They keep walking, Mako forcibly keeping the pace even and relaxed. Natural. If they can avoid drawing attention to themselves…

Mako keeps an eye on the green uniforms as they walk away, making sure they stay in sight. It’s a relief when they turn a corner.

“Are they looking for us?” Wu whispers.

“No,” Mako says, “And don’t whisper, it’s suspicious and whispers carry. Just talk quietly.”

“What do you mean whispers carry? They’re whispers, the silent-ist of sounds!” Somehow Wu manages to tack and exclamation point onto anything, even whisper.

“It’s the hissing sound,” Mako tries to explain. “Whispers sound like air being let out of a tire. They’re suspicious. Talking quietly just sounds…quiet.”

“How do you not whisper?”

“You talk like normal, just quietly,” Mako huffs, “it’s not that hard.”

“That’s _whispering_!” Wu objects.

“No, they’re completely – just talk like normal, then, I don’t care.”

“Well, why didn’t you say that!”

“Don’t _yell_.”

“This is my normal speaking voice!”

“Why is your normal speaking voice so _loud_?”

“It’s my royal nature. We attract admirers wherever we go.”

“You attract attention, that’s what you do.”

Wu rolls his eyes and swats at his shoulder. “You’re such a drama queen.”

Mako pinches the bridge of his nose. “If we die, it’s your fault.”

They turn another corner just in time to catch sight of another set of green uniforms. Wu steps backwards, colliding with Mako’s chest, “Oh, that’s not good,” he mutters.

Mako braces on hand on Wu’s shoulder, ready to throw the prince behind him if it comes to a fight. They’re in a one-way alley. Their only options are to turn back the way they came or keep going forward. Ahead of them, a shopkeeper is talking to the soldiers in green.

“We don’t have any foreigners here,” the shopkeeper says, sounding confused, “I’ve known everyone in this village my whole life.”

“Well, there’s those two up at the Happy Fish,” his assistant offers, “But they’re just passing through.”

“What’s the Happy Fish?” asks one of the soldiers.

“The inn up the road,” the annoyingly helpful assistant says, “there’s two guys working up there to save up some money before they start traveling again.”

“They’re from Ba Sing Se,” the much cannier shopkeeper cuts in, “They’re local too.”

“Can’t be that local,” the assistant, who either has it out for them or is just stupendously dense, points out, “One’s a fire bender.”

“It’s on his mother’s side,” the shopkeeper tries to object, “His father was an earth bender from Ba Sing Se, he said so – ”

One of the soldiers folds his arms, “Foreign benders are a threat to Earth Kingdom stability.”

The other nods, “If we’re going to unite the country, we have to be united as a people.”

“Pure Earth Kingdom,” agrees his partner, “No… _foreign_ influences.”

Mako has been backing them away, back around the corner as the men talk. His heartbeat a riot in his ears. Wu’s hands have come up to grip Mako’s wrists as if to assure himself the fire bender is still here and not deported who-knows-where. If this were any other situation, Mako is sure Wu would be cracking jokes about Mako being a foreign influence.

Of course, this is when Mako backs straight into the soliders’ backup.

“Watch it, pal,” snarls the soldier in green they’d spotted earlier. Do all these guys have the same haircut as Bataar Jr.? Why? Is it part of the uniform requirement? Mako thinks to himself as his brain goes from cautious to alarmed.

“Hey,” the assistant says as if remarking on the weather, “It’s that fire bender guy from the inn. Hey, fire bender guy!”

Mako decides this person is just astronomically stupid. And going to get them killed or captured or worse.

(He’s not sure what ‘worse’ might entail, but he isn’t eager to find out.)

“ _Mako_ ,” Wu says, voice strained.

“ _Shit,_ ” Mako curses.

“GET THEM,” bellows one of the soldiers interviewing the shopkeeper.

Mako frees his hands from Wu’s grip, reaching over the prince to send an arc of flame towards the soldiers down the street.   
“Look! That foreigner attacked me!” shouts one of the two, “DETAIN HIM!”

“You were already planning to do that,” Mako snaps, “I’m just resisting arrest at this point.”

He slams an elbow into the man behind him’s solar plexus, grinning viciously when he hears the sound of all the air rushing out of the big man’s lungs.

He shoves Wu forward, spinning around to punch flame at the men’s faces. They reel back, shouting and batting at their clothes. Mako doesn’t pause, kicking off the ground with a jet of flame and running along the wall the way he did with Korra when they infiltrated Amon’s gathering, using fire to counterbalance him as he runs down the alley. The men who had been looming behind them, wheezing and blinking sparks out of their eyes, swear and swerve away from the burst of fire keeping Mako roughly vertical. Wu takes advantage of their swerve, sliding under Mako’s fire and out behind them.

“Go, go, go!” Mako yells, kicking off the wall and slinging another band of fire at the hapless duo with his feet. They manage to stagger and collapse this time, tripping up pair who’d been interviewing the shopkeeper when they come running in to assist.

Wu doesn’t hesitate, already running away, Pabu in his arms, Mako hot on his heels. The four downed men in the alley are already screaming for backup and Mako knows they can’t risk going back to the inn for their things.

Oh well, with the way things are going he should really just give up on owning multiple sets of clothes.

The town is sandwiched between the river and the railroad track. Unlike Republic City, it isn’t a planned city and doesn’t have a convenient grid system. The streets are tangled up and squished all higgledy-piggledy between the river and the railroad like noodles between chopsticks. Sort of. Metaphor has never been Mako’s strong suit.

“Get to the river!” Mako yells. They’ve given up on subtlety and are just bolting like cheap thieves. “Kuvira’s men will be at the train track.!”

“Got it!” Wu gasps. He’s still not much of a runner.

Mako reaches out and grabs the back of his shirt to yank the prince out of the way of an oncoming cart. “Stay with me!” he orders.

“I’m trying!”

They’re in the thick of traffic and Mako can hear the soldiers screaming about foreign spies behind them. Pack animals are panicking. Ostrich horses hear the soldiers and start screaming too, children are crying, everyone not trying to keep their animals or their offspring under control are yelling questions.

They have to get out of the main street.

Mako tries to keep a hold on Wu, the prince clinging to his fingers with a white-knuckled determination. Pabu has dug all four feet into the fabric of Wu’s shirt and his highness isn’t even flinching. They’re all too busy running for their lives.

There’s a moment, a blessed, single moment, when the reach the docks, that Mako thinks they’re going to make it.

“When we reach the end, jump,” Mako orders, “and swim with the current. I’ll cover you.”

“And then…you jump…too?” Wu wheezes, shrewd as ever.

“Then I jump too,” Mako agrees, not caring if it’s true. They’re after him, after all. If he has to, he can let these idiots capture him and escape to rejoin Wu later. It’s not ideal, but when has anything ever been ideal in this year-long nightmare? The most important thing is keeping Wu safe.

They’ve reached the end of the dock, Mako has planted his feet to allow himself to pivot, slinging Wu into the river and freeing up the hand not crushed in the prince’s death-grip to defend them. Wu is jumping, Pabu shrieking his objections in their ears, when cables just like Lin’s shoot straight toward them. Mako gathers seed lightning in his free hand, ready to send and electrical current up the cables the same way he did on the train.

But the cables don’t target him, and he can’t safely throw lightning with only one free hand, not without injuring Wu accidentally. One cable misses them entirely, the other wraps around Wu and yanks him back like a fish on a line. His hand, clenched in Mako’s drags Mako along behind him.

Mako tries to run, to build momentum, to counterattack once they’re close enough to whoever those cables belong to, when he realizes the second cable didn’t miss them at all.

It comes back around; he can hear it whistle through the air behind him…and then everything goes very bright and then very dark.

…

Mako wakes up alone in a metal box.

He thrashes, kicking and punching out puffs of fire and slamming his elbows, knees, knuckles, and toes against steel walls. He woke up lying on his side, body curled in a vaguely question mark shape and as he struggles, jets of flame briefly illuminating the dimensions of his prison, he realizes just how small his new home is. He’s trapped in a box just big enough for him to sit on his knees, but not stand and just small enough he can’t quite lie flat. There’s slits cut along the upper walls to let in air, like you would see in a zoo transport container. There’s nothing else in here with him. No food, no water, no items that could be conveniently repurposed into weapons.

Nothing but slick steel walls and darkness.

The air heats up around him as Mako wrestles his bruised and aching body upright so he can kneel on the floor. He punches fire at the corners and seams of his prison, trying to find a weak spot.

Nothing.

He channels heat into the steel, hoping to find some flaw or imperfection to exploit.

Nothing.

He presses his palms against the air slits and blasts out as much fire as he can muster.

Nothing.

Sweat crawls down his back and pours down his face, the salt of it stinging his cracked, dry lips and making his eyes burn. His shirt, stained and tattered after their flight, sticks painfully to the various scraps he picked up between everything going dark and waking up here. Clearly, whoever transported him was not concerned about being gentle. The steel floor is growing uncomfortably hot through the thin fabric over his knees and Mako tries to breathe through He knows that moving now will only make it hurt more when he inevitably has to go back to kneeling again. If there were a light source in here with him, Mako is almost certain he’d see a heat haze.

“Struggling is pointless, you know,” someone drawls outside his box. Mako recognizes Bataar Jr.’s studied indifference and growls under his breath.

“Where’s Wu?” he demands.

“This box was made for prisoners like you, Fire Bender 407,” Bataar Jr. continues, and Mako realizes suddenly, that Bataar Jr. has no idea who he is. That meant he must have been brought on Bataar Jr.’s train already in the box, like an animal. The though makes his stomach twist, but Bataar Jr. is still talking, “The more fire you use, the hotter it gets in there. You’ll cook yourself alive before you melt Zaofu steel. And if you’re a lightning bender…I wouldn’t suggest trying anything. It’s all metal in there. Highly conductive material, metal. So, I’d just sit back and contemplate how soon you’ll be helping make the Earth Kingdom great. Consider it penance for showing up where you aren’t wanted.”

“Where’s Wu?” Mako demands again.

“Who?” Bataar Jr. asks.

“I was taken with someone,” Mako growls, “ _where is he_?”

“I wouldn’t know. It’s not like I was there when they took you two in. I’m sure he’s on his own little journey of self-discovery right now. Maybe, if you’re lucky you’ll be in the same re-education camp.”

“Re-education camp?” Mako blurts, “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It’s where problem children like you go to learn how to be better, more productive contributors to Earth Kingdom greatness.”

“That’s illegal,” Mako snaps.

“ _Nothing is illegal_ ,” Bataar Jr. snarls, “Not since the Avatar brought her personal problems down on Earth Kingdom heads. We’re a nation without a government, collapsing under our own weight just in time for her to disappear again. You do what you have to do for your country to survive and thrive in times like these, and right now sacrifices have to be made.”

“But why am I the one being sacrificed?” Mako demands, “I wasn’t doing anything wrong!”

Bataar Jr. doesn’t bother answering him. “Watch those flames, Fire Bender 407. I would hate to see you dead of heatstroke before we arrived.”

Mako curses and slumps against one side of his box, pulling his legs out from under him and wincing as he feels blisters from the super-heated floor pull and pop as he moves his knees. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” he mutters, dropping his head into his hands, fisting his fingers in his hair and trying not to panic at the thought of Wu alone, Wu scared, Wu being sent to do hard labor in some kind of nightmarish prison camp.

“Hey, cheer up, guy,” a voice says. This one echoes slightly, like the sound is warped by another box like Mako’s. Must be another prisoner. “Maybe you’ll find your friend when we arrive. I hear they split the benders up for transport so we can’t overpower the guards. But we’re all going to the same place, right?”

Right. Maybe. Fuck. Mako doesn’t know what to do. The last time he was kidnapped by bad guys, he’d had Bolin with him and he’d known they weren’t going to kill them, they were too valuable for manipulating Korra. Now, he’s alone, and Wu is out there, defenseless, if he’s alive at all – no, he can’t think that, clearly the people who took them down had no idea who they were, or they’d have told Bataar Jr. But that just means they don’t have any reason to think they’re valuable. Wu could be – no, he can’t think that. Wu isn’t dead. Mako can’t imagine a universe where Wu suddenly just… doesn’t exist. He’s gotten too damn used to him.

But what if Wu tried to pull the stupid, idiotic, ‘but I’m a prince’ card in a last-ditch attempt to save them and they killed him outright – no, fuck, Mako’s going in circles now. He needs more information. Any information.

“Who are you?” he asks his neighbor(?).

“Baraz,” the voice answers, “Or, to these guys, Fire Bender 408.”

“Nice to meet you, Baraz,” Mako says mechanically. His voice is sounds strange, strange and raspy to his ears, like he’s fighting back tears or coming off a sore throat. “I’m Mako. Fire Bender 407.”

“Sorry about your friend,” Baraz offers.

“Me too,” Mako mutters, hands tightening in his hair. How could he have let this happen? He’s only ever done one thing completely and utterly right in his entire life, and that’s protect Bolin and, up until now, protect Wu. And he’s failed. And now Wu is somewhere where Mako can’t follow and he’s trying very hard not to explode.

“Uh, so how’d they get you?” Baraz asks. “Me, I guess you could say I was a bandit. They did, anyway, when they took me. I was working security for this governor guy, protecting shipments of food and supplies, but I guess the governor was a warlord, not a governor, because when he got overthrown, and the town called in Kuvira, they were in a pretty big hurry to hand me over to those thugs with the metal shoulder-pads.”

“I was just passing through,” Mako says dully. “Me and my friend,” Friend. Wu trusted him to get them out of this and he’d failed. He clears his throat and starts again, “My friend got trapped in Ba Sing Se during the riots after the Queen was murdered. I came to help him get out, but because everything such a mess we’ve been just kind of traveling around, trying to stay out of trouble. We wanted to head for Republic City.” There, that was close enough to the truth without including all the details, right?  
“Spirits, man, you’ve got some of the worst luck ever, huh?” Baraz says, “Went from the Ba Sing Se shit show to this pleasure trip.”

“Yeah,” Mako agrees tiredly. Baraz doesn’t know the half of it, really.

They sit in silence for a moment, Mako trying to even out his breathing, the train clattering over the tracks beneath them.

“It’ll work out,” Baraz offers, “It’s got to, right?”

“No,” Mako disagrees.

“Huh.”

“It won’t just ‘work out’. Waiting for things to get better on their own is how you die young. You want things to improve? You fight. And you keep fucking fighting as long as you have to.”

“…I’m going to stick with you from here on out, if that’s okay, man,” Baraz says, “Because no offense, but you sound like a scary motherfucker and it’s always good to have scary motherfuckers on your side.”

Mako clenches his fists. He might not be able to get out of this box on his own, but if they want any work out of him, they’ll have to let him loose eventually. And then he’ll be ready.

…

_Mako,_

_I haven’t heard from you this week and I’m a little concerned. You didn’t fall into another swamp, did you?_

_Things have calmed down around here. I think Toph and Lin are actually working things out. It’s…unsettling to watch. It seems to involve a lot of hurling rocks and steel around. But hey, it’s doing wonders speeding up the reconstruction effort._

_Bolin is carrying Raiko’s pen around. He has it tucked behind his ear at all times. He’s channeling you. He’s carrying around a little notebook and whenever anything noteworthy happens he jots it down like he’s some kind of ace reporter._

_I think he just misses you. We all do._

_I heard from Korra!!! I’m so relieved. I was getting so worried. It’s not like her to shut us out like this. She sounded so tired. I wish I could go to her. I just want to wrap her up in my arms and tell her everything will be okay. She’s working so hard; I want her to have the space she needs but I don’t want her to think she has to do everything alone…I’ve been there. I’ve thought that I had to do everything myself. But you and Bolin and Korra, you never let me get too isolated._

_I realize I never actually apologized for kissing you that night on the docks. I had just lost everything and you were there, telling me you’d back me up 100% and I just…didn’t know how to handle that kind of friendship, that kind of loyalty, so I tried to make our relationship back into one I was familiar with, one that had a structure._

_It was the wrong choice for us, I see that now. I’m glad we’re friends._

_Seriously, please write back, this is weird,_

_Asami_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *runs away*


	13. Prison Part 2 (Wu Interlude)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Mako,  
> I’m not actually writing this, I’m just thinking it because I don’t know where you are and they haven’t given me a pen or paper and writing things in blood is never a habit a royal should get into… Mako, I’m scared. I don’t know where you are, and I don’t know what’s happened to you, not really, and I’m scared.   
> Your friend,   
> Wu  
> P.S. That Zhu Li lady is a good person to have around in a pinch, isn’t she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU AS ALWAYS, TO EVERYONE WHO READS AND REVIEWS, Y'ALL ARE STARS
> 
> Don't get used to this update schedule, lol, I was just inspired. 
> 
> First time writing in Wu POV, wish me luck!

**Prison Part 2 (Wu Interlude)**

**_Dear Mako,_ **

**_I’m not actually writing this, I’m just thinking it because I don’t know where you are and they haven’t given me a pen or paper and writing things in blood is never a habit a royal should get into… Mako, I’m scared. I don’t know where you are, and I don’t know what’s happened to you, not really, and I’m scared._ **

**_Your friend,_ **

**_Wu_ **

**_P.S. That Zhu Li lady is a good person to have around in a pinch, isn’t she?_ **

…

Wu has a lot of experience being scared. As a child he’d been scared of his great aunt. Of her sharp, gold finger-sheathes, and sharper tongue. She couldn’t beat him or imprison him like she did the servants, but she could certainly confine him to his room without food or company for days on end if his existence got too irritating.

Gun had helped him hide non-perishable food around his room when the Queen was in one of her tempers. They’d never talked about it. Just quietly smuggled provisions up from the kitchen. Wu had been half-afraid to mention the little kindnesses Gun had done for him throughout that miserable period of his life after his parents died. Afraid that if he did, Gun would have to stop, because the Grand Secretariat could only commit these tiny treasons as long as they went unremarked on.

As a teenager he’d feared other people. What they would think of him. Whether they would like him. Whether he’d be good enough to be their king (his aunt had always made it a point to tell he how he wouldn’t be, but having seen the results of her reign, he must say, the bar is astronomically low). Whether he would ever have friends.

And then Ba Sing Se fell and his aunt died and he went from being a lonely boy worried about the future in an abstract way, to the heir to a kingdom and a dynasty on the brink of total collapse.

Being afraid with Mako was easier. The world was huge and frightening and absurd, but there was something wonderful and almost intoxicating about running through it at high speed, with someone strong and steady and familiar at his side.

But then he wakes up in an unfamiliar train car, hands and feet bound together with metal strips, Mako nowhere to be seen.

And he is afraid.

Gun took Wu to see an opera once in the Upper Ring. He was probably ten years old or so. His great-aunt had been out of the city on one of the rare occasions she deigned to leave the palace grounds, and Gun and the servants had tried to make the most of it for him.

The play had been very beautiful, with magnificent costumes and elegant set pieces, but what Wu had really loved was the music. Sweeping, orchestral numbers, accompanied by bright, transcendent vocals from the performers. And when the lead female character was captured by the villain, she had the most breathtaking solo where she sang of her fear and loneliness with all the grace and dignity of a queen.

“I want to do that,” Wu had whispered to Gun.

“What do you mean, Your Highness?” Gun had asked, clearly biting back the urge to shush him.

“I want to be like that even when I’m afraid.”

“Singing, You Highness?”

Wu had sighed, “Never mind, Gun.”

But Wu never could manage to be elegant and dignified in the face of fear and isolation. He’s just not made for it, he thinks. He feels too much too immediately. So instead he smiles and jokes or plays up his fright just to make Mako rolls his eyes, because if Mako is rolling his eyes at Wu’s overblown dramatics, then all hope isn’t lost yet.

But in here there’s no Mako. There’s just him and seats upholstered in plush green velvet, and a closed compartment door and drawn green silk curtains and a little sliver of light that leaks through from the window. It’s like being in a rich, green cave.

The bindings pinch at his wrists uncomfortably, and Wu tries to shift around a bit to ease the tension, but it doesn’t seem to help much. Underneath him, the train clatters away with a steady, rhythmic, cla-clunk and Wu can’t help but think of the last time he was trapped on a train.

He’s starting to really hate trains. Once they’re finally in Republic City and he has access to his bank accounts again, he’ll be commissioning a _fleet_ of air ships to take him _wherever_ he needs to go _whenever_ he wants to go there, without any more of this horrible train nonsense. Trains can be for people who haven’t been imprisoned on them, thank you.

Maybe he’ll get Mako his own airship to thank him for all he’s done for him this last year.

Never mind, he’ll give Mako his own suite of rooms on _Wu’_ s airship. Because every time they’ve been separated everything has gone _utterly and completely horrible_ very quickly, and Wu would like to avoid that going forward. Clearly, the only solution is to just go everywhere together all the time, like they have been.

There, that’s perfectly sensible.

But that doesn’t solve the problem that is Wu being tied up and alone on a train. His fingers tremble a little bit and he bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood to still them.

What was his aunt used to say? _“Stop shaking, you aren’t a spirits-forsaken poodle-monkey. Spoiled, that’s what you are. Completely spoiled. It’s your mother’s blood making you turn all shivery like that. Weak blood, that’s it.”_

Wu doesn’t know what his bloodline has to do with being spoiled. He’d thought that children got to be spoiled because of how they were raised, not who their parents were, but his great-aunt was never good about clarifying her tirades.

His hands never used to shake when his parents were alive. They only did that when his aunt was being terrible and the anxiety got to be too much.

He’d never told her that, of course. He wasn’t that foolish.

He tries to focus on what he knows. That’s what Mako would do in this situation. Mako. Mako who isn’t here. Mako who could be dead. Wu doesn’t want Mako to be dead. Mako is his first ever real friend, and Wu can’t lose him now. But if life has taught him anything, it’s that you can never get too comfortable with what you have. And he’d gotten comfortable with Mako, and now look what’s happened.

What he knows. A list, because Mako is always making lists.

  1. He has been taken by Kuvira’s metal bending goons
  2. He is presumably still being help by said metal bending goons as his shackles are solid pieces of steel without hinges or a locking mechanism, which is very, very unsettling.
  3. They have no put him into a jail cell this time, although he’s still tied up. He doesn’t know what that means.
  4. The blinds are drawn in this compartment, and the door is closed. Does someone not want anyone else to know he’s here? He doesn’t know what that means either. He’d hope it indicates some kind of dissent in the ranks for Kuvira, but he doesn’t think he’s lucky enough to have fallen in with some monarch loyalists. Monarch loyalists don’t seem like they would shackle his hands and feet together. There are probably laws against shackling your crown prince.
  5. He is on a train. The train is moving. They’re going somewhere.
  6. There is no Mako in this compartment. He’s fairly certain that if Mako is on this train, they aren’t supposed to see each other.



The door to the compartment slides open as he’s wracking his brains for a number 7 thing to put on his list.

A figure walks in, strides quick and purposeful. From his awkward position lying across a bench seat, Wu isn’t able to see the person’s face right away. Whoever they are, they’re wearing green much like the thugs who captured them, but with a gray-green skirt and leggings under the tunic instead of trousers. Wu doesn’t hear the clank of any metal and as he cranes his neck trying to see the person’s face, he notices his visitor isn’t wearing any of the metal armor or shoulder-plates the soldiers had been.

The door closes behind his visitor.

“Hello again, Prince Wu,” a familiar voice says.

“Zhu Li, fancy running into you here. A real funny coincidence, this!” Wu says with false cheer. “I don’t suppose you’ve mastered the art of metal-bending and also removing restraints since we last chatted?”

Zhu Li kneels down so her face is level with his. She looks tired behind her thin-framed glasses. “Listen to me very carefully. You are not Prince Wu. You’ve never been Prince Wu. Your name is Li. You were a student at the Ba Sing Se Technical Institute. You were traveling with a fire bender, but now you’re willing to pledge yourself to Kuvira’s cause as Varrick and I’s lab assistant, using your engineering expertise to help our research. Do you understand me?”

Wu opens his mouth.

Zhu Li, perhaps anticipating him saying something other than ‘yes, I understand you’, cuts him off. “ _Do you understand?_ ”

“Where’s Mako?” Wu asks because Wu does not know when to quit.

Zhu Li looks even more tired. But now the tiredness is the sort of exasperated why-are-you-like-this tiredness he sees on Mako’s face when Wu’s being particularly social, or chatty, or bouncy and Mako just wants to go back to wherever they’re staying and nap.

“I don’t know.”

“Can you find out for me? They took us at the same time and –”

“If Kuvira finds out you’re here, you’re done, do you understand? Done,” Zhu Li snaps, voice quiet but tight with frustration, “I’m helping you because someday soon this house of cards Kuvira’s building is going to come crashing down and at leaving at least one Hou-Ting alive is a safety net Varrick and I can’t afford to lose. But you had better realize the kind of situation you’re in here. You grew up at court, you’ve trained for this your whole life. You have to lie, and lie well if you’re going to avoid being sent straight to Kuvira on a silver platter. Mako protected you last time, but he’s only one man and right now, he’s not here.”   
Wu blinks rapidly, eyes stinging. “I know. I understand.”

Zhu Li’s face softens incrementally. “I’ll try to find out what I can about Mako, okay?”

Wu nods.

“But for right now,” Zhu Li’s face hardens, “You’re going to have to focus on keeping yourself safe. You’re the priority.”

Wu doesn’t want to be the priority. He wants to be part of a team. He wants Mako. But Zhu Li is right, so he nods along and says, “Okay,” no matter how much he hates it.

…

_Dear Wu,_

_I don’t know where you are right now, and I don’t have any way to write this down and send it to you, even if I could. But I’m alive for now. You focus on keeping yourself in one piece. I’m going to find you, I swear. I found you once, didn’t I?_

_We’re stuck together, and Kuvira can’t change that._

_Mako_


	14. Prison Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Asami,  
> I can’t actually write this down, because I’m currently illegally detained in the Earth Kingdom, being forced to do manual labor.   
> So that’s what’s up with me. How are you?  
> Sweaty, hungry, and covered in dirt,   
> Mako

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO COMMENTS
> 
> This chapter's a little late because I've been home sick with bronchitis and it is NOT FUN, friends. Anyway, I'm on antibiotics now and feeling a little better, so have some more Mako SufferingTM. I'm hoping to wrap up this arc next chapter and finally reunite these two, but we'll see.

**Prison Part 3**

_Dear Asami,_

_I can’t actually write this down, because I’m currently illegally detained in the Earth Kingdom, being forced to do manual labor._

_So that’s what’s up with me. How are you?_

_Sweaty, hungry, and covered in dirt,_

_Mako_

…

All things considered, Mako’s been in worse situations. Not many. But some. The main difference, he thinks, as he clears his mind and generates lightning for the umpteenth time (it’s really not so different from that time he worked in the power plant…except with longer shifts, no paycheck to speak of, and more human rights violations) is that when he was starving on the streets he had hope. There was always the possibility of improvement. Here, there’s pretty much only the possibility of things getting worse or him getting dead.

He flings himself down onto his creaking bunk after a scanty dinner of wilted vegetables and thin jook, determined to make the most of his scant six hours of allotted sleep, when Baraz nudges him. Mako growls. He does not appreciate being nudged, not when he’ll have to haul his aching body up before dawn to scarf down watery gruel and continue to power up Kuvira’s war machine, all while agonizing over Wu’s fate, how they’re going to get out of this, and whether or not he’ll live to see Bolin and his friends again.

“Hey, scary motherfucker.”

“Baraz. There’d better be a good reason you’re disturbing me.”

“You want to hear something good?”

“We’ve been liberated by United Republic Forces. We’re being shipped off to stay at the Four Elements Hotel in Republic City and fed bon-bons free of charge right this instant.”

“Uh…no. Not even close.”

“Unless it’s that specific scenario, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Well…it’s not bon-bons, but you could get more camp privileges and meal vouchers out of it.”

Mako cracks open an eye. He’s not going to get any sleep. He knows that. His brain, no matter how exhausted his body is, is too busy whirling with possibilities, all the ways Wu could be hurt or dead by now, what Kuvira could be planning, whether or not Bolin and Opal are safe, whether or not Asami and Lin even know he’s in trouble. Whether or not anyone would be notified if he died here.

“I’m listening.”

“Come with me.”

Mako groans and hauls himself up. Why does he always listen to crazy people who want him to do things?

…

Mako follows Baraz out of the bunkhouse, their feet clattering against the metal slats of the hastily constructed structure. Trust Kuvira’s metal benders to slap together a bunker of corrugated steel and call it good. Fire benders or not, without insulation, Mako’s sure at least half of them will die of hypothermia and pneumonia when the nights start getting cold. Even in the Earth Kingdom, winter is still a threat.

They walk through the night-dark camp, not even bothering with stealth. They’re all just more anonymous fire benders here, all dressed in the same shabby prison clothes, all with their hair cut short from intake, when they were all shaved and scrubbed within an inch of their lives.

_“Vermin, you understand,”_ the guard had said, _“Can’t have anyone bringing in ticks and lice, you understand.”_

It was the ‘you understand’ that made Mako’s blood boil. No. He doesn’t fucking understand. He doesn’t fucking want to.

In the weeks since, Mako’s hair has begun to grow back, just as unruly as ever, but each millimeter of dark strands only reminds him he’s been here too long, he’s been negligent, he’s failed.

He’d tried to escape in the beginning.

Over and over and over.

He’d been thrown into the metal box every time. Solitary confinement. Told to cool his heels.

There’s a reason he’s fed half as much as the other inmates. Why he works longer hours. Gets less sleep.

Baraz turns a corner, bringing them to the enclosed yard where they take their meals. The tables have been cleared away, leaving nothing but packed dirt and a ring of screaming, stamping spectators.

“What is this, some kind of fight club?” Mako asks.

“Yeah,” Baraz says with a shrug, “That’s exactly what it is.”

“AND AHNAH CONTINUES TO BE UNSTOPPABLE,” screams another inmate, apparently the commentator, a skinny kid with spiky hair standing on a stack of crates, “SPECTATORS, SHE’S GOT HIM ON THE ROPES, ON THE GROUND, IN THE AIR, AND **ON THE GROUND AGAIN!”**

The crowd begins to scream again, stamping and jumping in place.

“Come on,” Baraz grabs Mako’s arm and hauls him closer to the action, shouldering other spectators aside as they push their way to the front. They break through, emerging at the perimeter of the circle, just in time to see a woman standing over her fallen foe, fists in the air.

“She’s a water bender,” Mako says, surprised. The water benders and fire benders are kept in the same camp but segregated into different work areas and bunkhouses. The water benders mostly work by the river, focusing on amplifying Kuvira’s manufacturing with hydropower while Mako and his ilk are confined to the elctro-power plants. Baraz and the other non-lightning benders are kept to the factories themselves, being used as human welders.

“How could you tell?” Baraz asks.

Mako indicates her hair. She’s combed out small hair loops, despite her prison-cropped hair (she must have been here longer than the two of them combined, her hair is long enough for a stubby ponytail). “She’s Southern Water Tribe. That’s a traditional hairstyle. Master Katara wears her hair like that.” He doesn’t say the first thing that sprang to mind – she moves like Korra.

“You’ve met Master Katara?” Baraz’s voice goes a little high and squeaky at the idea.

“Yeah,” Mako says, “Her daughter saved my life.” That’s a wild understatement considering everything else that had gone down the night of Harmonic Convergence, but Mako doesn’t really want to get into it right now.

“Who even are you?” Baraz squeaks.

“Mako, I told you,” Mako says with a frown, before turning his attention back to the spectacle.

Ahnah is accepting congratulations from the crowd, a mixture of fellow prisoners and junior guards alike. A sour-faced assistant from the quartermaster’s office approaches to offer her a stack of meal vouchers.

Bonuses indeed.

“If she keeps this up, she’ll have the run of the place,” groans one of the prisoners next to Mako.

“What d’you mean?” Baraz asks.

“Well, the winners always get more roaming privileges, right? She’ll have nearly free run of the camp at this rate.”

Free run of the camp.

That sounds pretty good to Mako.

“Get me into the fights,” he says to Baraz.

“Huh? How?” the other fire bender blurts. “Me?”

Mako sighs. No dice there. “Hey, you,” he calls to the prisoner who’d been talking about roaming privileges.

“Yeah?”

“How do I get in the ring?”

…

“You’re new,” a woman’s voice remarks from behind Mako as he strips off his shirt and tears off strips of material to wrap his hands. It’s been awhile since he’s fought without any fire bending at all. It reminds him painfully of Tahno and the tour bus and Wu’s face above his after he’d been dragged out of the mini-rumble arena.

“And you’re Ahnah,” Mako says, holding out one of his wrapped hands, “Mako.”

She shakes it.

“It’s harder than it looks,” she says, dropping his hand, “Especially when you’re used to bending.”

“I figured,” Mako agrees, “is it worth it?”

She grimaces, “Is anything worth it in here?” She stretches, cracking her back, “If you’re thinking of using your winnings to try and escape, don’t bother.”

“I see my reputation precedes me,” Mako says dryly.

She snorts, “I have no fucking clue who you are. I just know everybody thinks it. Not exactly a leap there. More freedom leading to eventual escape. But it never works. Ask me how I know,” she gives him a grim smile.

Mako shrugs. “Maybe I’m just really fucking angry and want something to punch.”

Ahnah snorts, “That’s the spirit.”

There’s a noise from the crowd. The announcer is shouting about a new challenger to the ring.

“That’s my cue,” Mako deadpans.

“For what it’s worth,” Ahnah says to the back of his head as he walks away, “Good luck.”

…

If Mako was playing it smart, he would have thrown the first fight. A wise fighter would have dragged it out a bit, gotten a feel for the ring, for the competition, then taken a fall before he could get too injured.

There’s something even Bolin doesn’t fully realize about Mako, though. When he has no one to protect and nothing to lose, he doesn’t play it smart.

The first fight is fast and brutal. When Mako was pro-bending with Bolin he was all about offense while Bolin worked defense. When Mako was on the run with Wu he was defensive offense, attacking relentlessly but always with the goal to protect and escape, protect and escape.

Here, now, nothing matters. Not him, not the ring, not his opponents. It’s been weeks. Wu could be anywhere. Anything could have happened to him. Any number of calamities could have befallen Bolin, and Korra, and Asami, and Republic City and he _wouldn’t know._

Nothing matters except winning. Nothing matters except destroying whatever stands in his way and getting the fuck out of here.

He has blood in his eyes and he’s breathing hard, his ribs straining against his skin. He’s gotten thin again. He tastes blood on his teeth and spits before sweeping his opponent’s legs out from under him and lunging forward to slam the other man’s head into the dirt.

It’s not fair. He doesn’t want to be hurting these skinny, half-feral people, but Mako learned long ago how to do distasteful things.

He probably looks more than half-feral himself, baring his teeth at the crowd, biting back the flames that flicker in the back of his throat as his inner fire roars up to meet his anger, to burst out of him in a vengeful, burning tide.

He doesn’t know how many he fights, but he knows he isn’t beaten at the end, when someone shoves a packet of papers at him and yells at someone else to “Just get that monster out of here, alright?”

The world smears and blurs and suddenly he’s sitting down again and Baraz is on one side – where did he come from? – shouting “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, I knew it, I knew you were a scary motherfucker!”.

“What’d I win?” Mako slurs around a swelling lip.

“I dunno,” a rustle as Baraz thumbs through the papers, “looks like extra rations for a week and a later curfew.”

Not good enough. He must have said it instead of just thought it, though, because suddenly Baraz is shoving him back down onto the crate he was seated on, “Vaatu’s arse, sit down, you crazy man. You’re beat to the spirit world and back, just sit!”

Mako continues to feebly resist until another pair of hands joins Baraz’s and a second pair of eyes is glaring down at him.

“He’s right, you know,” Ahnah growls, “They’re not going to let you back in the ring, not yet.”

Mako growls at her, and though Baraz takes a step back, Ahnah just crosses her arms. “I know what I’m talking about, spitfire, I’ve been doing this a long time.”

Mako subsides, but glares just to show he’s not scared of her.

Ahnah rolls her eyes, “This isn’t above-board, you know. Kuvira, Bataar, all the higher-ups have no idea this is going on. And that’s fine, as long as no one prisoner gets too good. Too many wins all at once, too many privileges thrown around willy-nilly and some pencil-pusher gets suspicious. Those permits for later curfews? For more rations? They’re all pre-signed ‘good behavior’ documents. No one prisoner can use too many all at once or the whole operation will get uncovered. It’s why no one’s ever won enough privileges to actually make a break for it. No one person ever has enough at one time. And the people who do manage an unexpected windfall are typically walking bruises like you. Half your face is swollen like a puffer-fish and I bet you can barely move your arms. And that’s just from one night. And what did you get? More rations? An adjusted curfew?”  
She’s right and Mako hates it.

“Yeah, yeah, I hate it too.”   
She’s right and she’s apparently a mind-reader and Mako still hates it.

Ahnah sighs, “Give it up, Spitfire, it’s a lost cause. There’s no getting out of here.” She looks at Baraz, “You, give me your canteen.”

“What?” Baraz startles.

“They don’t let water benders carry canteens, too afraid we’ll use them as weapons, but you walking furnaces have to stay hydrated or you’ll give yourselves heatstroke. Canteen, or your friend continues to look like a poorly mashed yam-radish.”

Baraz hands over the canteen.

Ahnah draws out a trickle of water and frowns at it until it glows before running it gently over Mako’s visible injuries.

“Neat trick,” he rasps as the cooling effect of water-healing sinks into his skin and bones.

“I’m not very good at it,” Ahnah grumbles, “My gran was much better. I should have apprenticed at the Southern Tribal Hospital when I had the chance,” she gives a flat, humorless laugh, “I thought I was being so responsible, staying here, with Dad, helping him run the business. And then these jack-booted thugs show up, ransack the place and cart me off. Turns out my girlfriend turned me in. I thought we had something special. Ha. Real special.”

“I’m sorry,” Mako whispers.

“It’s in the past,” Ahnah says, but the tense lines on her face say otherwise. She puts away the water and hands the canteen back to Baraz. “There, you’ll be presentable for work shift tomorrow, at the very least.”

“Thanks,” Mako says, “Really. Thank you.”

She sighs, rolling her shoulders restlessly. “Just, try not to get yourself killed.” She turns to leave, looking resigned. Looking like Korra did when she agreed to let Amon take her. Looking like Asami did when she realized her father wasn’t the man she thought he was.

“Ahnah,” Mako says, the beginnings of an idea trickling into place in the back of his mind. “You said no one prisoner could ever get enough ration cards and movement privileges to make an escape attempt.”

“Yeah,” she frowns at him, “No. Don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, dumbass –”

“They keep us separated on purpose,” Mako says, “Our shifts are staggered, to take advantage of fire benders rising with the sun and water benders pulling power from the moon. They don’t want us mixing too much.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s going to be their undoing,” Mako says with absolute certainty.

“Oh no,” Baraz mutters behind him.

“Oh yes,” Mako grins. No wonder Korra always looks like she’s having the time of her life when she runs into danger. This kind of thing is weirdly fun.

…

Phase 1 of the plan involves pooling their resources, then splitting them up again. “We need to do recon,” Mako says, feeling strangely like Lin at a morning briefing, “Baraz, you’ll have to take lead on the fire benders side of the camp.”

“Why Baraz?” Ahnah asks.

“Because my work hours are longer than his and I’m stuck indoors for all of them.”

“Who’d you piss off?”

“Literally everyone,” Mako deadpans.

“His escape attempts were _legendary_.” Baraz says.

“I’m shocked you’re still hanging around if the guards hate this guy that much.”

“When you’re boxed up and put on a prison train with a guy you kind of bond,” Baraz shrugs.

“Focus, team,” Mako snaps, “We need to use our movement privileges judiciously. We need a reliable map. Guard stations, patrol routes, camp layout, all of it.”

The other two look at each other, then back at him and nod.

“What’s your part in this?” Ahnah asks.

“Hoarding food,” Mako says bluntly. “I’ve been stashing nonperishables since my last failed prison break.”

Baraz looks offended, “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to eat them,” Mako growls, “I grew up with a younger brother, I know how sticky fingers work.”

Part 2 is easier, if more unpleasant, “Ahnah and I keep getting the shit beat out of us to maintain our supply of camp privileges and ration tickets.”

“I’m very glad I’m not part of that part of the plan,” Baraz says sagely.

“Me too,” Ahnah says, “I could snap you like a toothpick.”

“Hey!”

Mako cuts in before they can squabble, “Part 3 is harder. Waiting for a decent opportunity. It has to be when something routine, but unusual happens. Like a visit to the camp from Kuvira or Bataar, or –”

“Or Varrick’s weird laboratory train coming in for winter outfitting?” Ahnah offers.

“Is that an option?” Mako asks.

“It came in for summer outfitting last spring,” she shrugs, “I don’t see why it wouldn’t come back.”

“When do you think it’ll be back?” Mako demands.

“Probably in a week or two, maybe a month. It’s been getting colder.”

Mako doesn’t grin. Even with Ahnah’s help, his face feels too tender for that. But he does smirk, just a little bit, “Perfect.”

And after they get out of this miserable place, Mako promises, he’s going to find his damn prince, and drag him back to the safety of Republic City, if they have to walk the entire Raava-forsaken way.

…

_Mako,_

_It’s been two months since I’ve heard from you, **where are you?** Bolin is panicking, Opal, Kai and Jinora are searching for you whenever they can, no one’s seen or heard from you and Wu since you parted ways with Kai and the refugees. _

_Mako, if you’re dead I’m marching into the spirit world and dragging your sorry ass back into the land of the living, don’t test me._

_Please, please be alright._

_Your very worried friend,_

_Asami_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baraz and Ahnah are the prisoners Bolin and Varrick run into when they escape Kuvira. In case you were wondering what they look like. :)


	15. The Prison Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Mako,
> 
> Want to know a secret? I have NO IDEA what Varrick means when he says “Do the thing”. None.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO! Thank you everyone who's stuck with this fic!
> 
> This will be the last chapter of the prison arc. I know this one's been a little darker than the rest of the fic. I started this fic out of a desire to explore the LoK world and as the timeline progressed I realized that if I was going to set this fic in canon, in the Earth Kingdom, I was going to have to address some unpleasant parts of that canon. Ahnah and Baraz are canon characters, their experiences (outside of meeting Mako) are canon as well. I've tried to keep to canon levels of violence and based the work camps off of the prison Katara and Haru liberated in season 1 of AtLA. 
> 
> Happily, we'll be moving into fluffier territory soon.

**The Prison Break**

**_Dear Mako,_ **

**_Want to know a secret? I have NO IDEA what Varrick means when he says “Do the thing”. None. BUT I have a great deal of experience following incoherent and absurd commands from a petty despot, and while I never expected that to go on my resume, it clearly indicates some kind of job proficiency because I am an AWESOME assistant. Yes, I don’t always do the RIGHT thing when I “do the thing” but I do A THING which seems to help the process or something because Varrick just kind of stares at me and doesn’t yell at me the way my aunt used to, so obviously I’m doing great._ **

**_Alright, “great” is a stretch. I actually miss you terribly and want to be anywhere but here. But hey, we’re stopping somewhere for repairs or something soon and maybe you’ll be there and there’ll be some kind of master escape plan already in place and we can get out of here once and for all!_ **

**_…A guy can dream…_ **

**_Missing you terribly,_ **

**_Wu_ **

…

“For the last time, Varrick, I _am_ doing a thing.”

“Yes, but it’s not _the_ thing.”

“Well then you should have specified,” Wu says primly and continues to reorganize the tool cabinet.

“Li, now I don’t know where anything is!”

“That sounds like a personal problem to me,” Wu sniffs.

“But…but… _Li_.”

“Yes, Varrick?”

Varrick sputters a bit, waving his hands vaguely, “Do the thing!”

Wu glances over at the wrenches he just arranged by size and shape. He delicately reaches over and begins sorting the nuts and bolts into separate trays. Varrick makes a sound like a rubber turtleduck being stepped on slowly.

Beneath them, the train squeaks to a stop.

“I don’t have time for this shenaniganry,” Varrick huffs, “We’re winterizing the train today.”

“Shall I continue doing the thing in your absence?” Wu asks innocently, widening his eyes as he starts on the pliers. Behind Varrick, Zhu Li’s face twitches in a smile-type direction.

Varrick makes a hissing steam-kettle noise and stalks off muttering to himself.

Zhu Li shoots Wu a very deliberate look. “Sir doesn’t like these stops. He hates the _work camps_. He’s protested to Kuvira but been shut down. He thinks using _prisoner_ labor is _wrong_. If you don’t want to get into _trouble_ , don’t _leave the train_ and _explore._ ”

This is a new, weird verbal tic for Zhu Li. She’s not really prone to audible italics. Wu opens his mouth to ask her why she’s telling him these things. She raises her eyebrows and shoots a glance towards the doors where the guards are moving away. “The _guards_ will be _assisting_ with the train _elsewhere_ today and _tonight_. There are _unruly fire bending prisoners_ out there, so it’s not safe to _leave the train._ You could _run into one._ ”

Wu blinks. Blinks again. Finally gets it. Feels a little dense. “OH! You mean…”

Zhu Li clenches her teeth and clearly resists the urge to cut a finger over her throat in the universal signal for shut the fuck up.

Wu closes his mouth and instead gives her an extremely exaggerated nod. “I _completely understand the things you are telling me. Right now. Out loud. Emphatically._ ” He says with a wink.

Zhu Li looks extremely unimpressed. “Good,” she says and then she’s stalking off too.

Wu resists the urge to do a giddy little dance behind her back. Mako is – might be? – no, is, almost definitely is, Zhu Li doesn’t make mistakes – here! Here! Here! Where Wu is! Possibly right now!

They’re getting out of here. Wu knows it in his gut or his heart, or some other organ that’s supposed to feel these things. He’s getting out of here and so is Mako and they’re going to be together again.

He’s sure of it.

Trying not to grin to himself too obviously, Wu returns to sorting pliers.

…

Wu decides to bide his time. That seems like something tactical. Mako was always telling him to be more tactical. Or strategic. Or something. Wu kind of tuned him out sometimes.

He promises to himself that if he gets Mako back he will never, ever tune out his stuffy lectures on tactics and strategy. He also promises himself that he will learn the difference between tactics and strategy.

There are noises coming from…somewhere…on the train and Wu doesn’t really like that. He’s been wary of trains ever since the aborted kidnapping attempt back in Zaofu. The last few weeks (months? Time tends to blur when you’re dragged into Varrick’s orbit.) he’s adjusted to it somewhat but he’s still not much of a fan. Whoever thought ‘hey, let’s put a metal tube on metal tracks and send it hurtling around with a bunch of squishy human passengers inside’ deserves a smack upside the head in Wu’s book. Trains, in his experience, are loud and rattle-y and cold and don’t have Mako on them, and therefore are The Worst.

There’s another loud noise and Wu sighs and resigns himself to fretting all day long.

…

The noises mercifully stop after the sun goes down and Zhu Li comes back to not-smile at the ways Wu and his anxiety have completely re-arranged the workshop in her absence. “I see you’ve decided to be strategic,” she says, and at first Wu thinks she’s referring to his color-coded storage system, but then he remembers they’re speaking Subtext right now and nods. She’s complimenting him on not being foolish and not bolting the instant he’s left unsupervised. She complimenting him on making a plan.

He hasn’t really made a plan beyond ‘leave after the sun goes down and everyone is lulled into a false sense of security’ but Zhu Li doesn’t need to know that.

She nods back.

“Varrick and I will be staying in the guard barracks tonight. With the guards. You will stay put here.”

Wu nods.

Zhu Li nods.

He really hopes he’s as fluent in Subtext as he thinks he is.

…

Wu is packing a satchel full of any supplies he thinks might come in handy later (difficult, so difficult when he wants to avoid carrying around metal things since…he’s kind of about to be on the run from a metal bending dictator and her metal bending goons…but so far he’s gotten his hands on some very nice rope, two leather water skins, some jerky and dried fruit, and several books of matches) when he hears footsteps outside the workshop door. Flinching, he kicks his satchel into the shadows under the nearest workbench and searches for a non-metal weapon. Nothing…nothing…WHY WAS EVERYTHING MADE OUT OF METAL ON THIS THING? Finally, he catches sight of a (thank Raava) wooden broom, grabs it and slides over to hide behind a cabinet, makeshift bat clutched between his sweating palms.

A door creaks open. Wu tenses, trying to corral his breathing into something other than panicked wheezing.

A stranger’s voice, “Looks like some kind of workshop.”

“Shh,” hisses another voice, “then leave it alone, we’re looking for food and money, not weird tech shit.”

“Maybe there’s something we can sell,” the first voice says, feet clunking softly as he steps into the dimly lit room.

“No, Baraz, get out of there, there’s probably alarms.”

More footsteps, the stranger approaches Wu’s cabinet, “Lemme just –” he grabs for the cabinet door. Wu doesn’t know who this guy is, but he’s guessing he probably isn’t friendly, at least not to scrappy prisoner/assistants.

Wu swings the broom, resisting the urge to shriek as he does so. Mako always said screaming when attacking was stupid and just gave away your position, blah, blah, Mako strategy talk.

But it’s dark and the broom isn’t very sturdy and Wu’s aim isn’t the best, so he must only graze the guy’s head instead of landing a significant hit, because the other man reels back with a muffled curse, “What the fuck?”

“Baraz, quit messing around,” hisses his companion.

“There’s someone in here,” Baraz says, “Or these things are booby trapped or something.”

“Then _move it_ , shit, shit, get out of there,” the stranger snaps.

But Baraz, who is apparently an idiot, reaches forward and snags Wu around the collar before Wu can squirm away, “No, no, I got ‘im, it’s fine.”

Wu, scrabbling at the hands clenched around his collar snarls, in his best Mako-impersonation, “Fuck off.”

It’s probably not very intimidating. He has been reliably informed he’s not very intimidating. And his swearing always made Mako laugh. _“You look so disgusted, like your body is rejecting the word,”_ he’s say. Wu would scrunch his face up and roll his eyes every time.

He’s hauled out of the workshop and into the adjoining hallway none too gently and deposited in from of a tough-looking woman with a southern water tribe hairstyle. “Um, hello?” he offers.

“Baraz, what were you thinking? We can’t take a hostage!” she whisper-shouts at him.

“I dunno, he tried to hit me with a broom so I grabbed him!”

Wu tries to bite the hand holding him and Baraz shakes him a little, more on reflex than anything else.

“He tried to bite me!”

“He scruffed me!”

The woman is clearly grinding her teeth, “Baraz what the fuck, you’ve just endangered us all!”

“For the record, I would be a terrible hostage,” Wu offers, cringing when both turn their glares on him, “But, but, I have no reason to stop whatever…shady…thing…is happening here.”

“Why?” the woman asks bluntly. “You’re one of them.”

“Not really,” Wu says, “I’m technically a prisoner doing unpaid labor. Like an internship, but less voluntary.”

“Prove it, metal boy,” the woman spits.

“How?!” Wu asks, “I mean, not to offer unsolicited criticism here, but you clearly haven’t thought your plans here through.”

“We _did_ have a _good_ plan, until _someone_ grabbed a _random person_ ,” the woman growls.

“Excuse you,” Wu huffs. “Listen, you don’t believe me, I get that. But I also find you extremely suspicious and know for a fact that if you two get caught I will be implicated so it’s in my best interest that your little bid for freedom goes off without a hitch. Here’s my proposal. You take me with you. Keep an eye on me, use me as a hostage, whatever. I use my extra special train prisoner knowledge to help you not get caught. Best case scenario we all escape together into the sunset. Worst case scenario, we’re all caught and end up back where we started.”

“In ‘involuntary internships’.” The woman says skeptically.

“Exactly!”

The woman glowers at him. “Fine. But you’re not going anywhere.” She flicks a wrist and a thing stream of water flows out of her waterskin and wraps around his wrists, freezing into a pair of handcuffs.

Wu frowns, “You’re going to take those off before I get frostbite, right?”

She glares at him. “Show us what you got, train boy.”

“Okay, first off, I’m literally an adult. I’m not a train boy; I’m a train man.”

“If you have to tell people you’re a grown up, you aren’t one,” the woman says.

“Rude,” Wu huffs.

The woman shrugs and keeps glaring at him.

“Any chance you’ve met another prisoner here, fire bender, very angry eyebrows, likes to huff and glare and fold his arms a lot…?”

“You have two seconds to prove you’ll be useful before I lock you in a closet and leave you to be found by the morning shift.”

Well then. Wu licks his lips and clears his throat, “Well, have you ever considered hijacking a train?”

Baraz and the woman exchange looks.

“You need to meet the scary motherfucker,” Baraz declares.

Well that sounds just _delightful._

…

Wu has no idea what to expect from a person with the nickname ‘scary motherfucker’. Probably someone built along the same lines as the biker brute who kidnapped Mako that one time. Someone designed around the loose concept of ‘what if a tank was also a person’ perhaps. He does not expect the person waiting for them in the shadows beside the train depot.

“What took so long? What were you two doing in there?” a raspy, achingly familiar voice hisses in the darkness and Wu’s heart is doing something weird in his chest. Shuddering. Once, when he was little, his father took him to a quarry. He’d stood and watched earth benders breaking stones apart, separating the precious minerals out then pulling the unwanted stone back together again and setting it aside, rows upon rows of reassembled boulders.

The last weeks had been like being those boulders. Like he’d been blown apart and something precious had been taken from his insides. Like he’d been jammed back together and set aside afterwards, poorer for the experience, but expected to look and act and be the same as always. Like he _had_ to look and act and be the same or he’d be in danger of being reduced to dust all over again.

But here was a familiar voice. Here were the parts of himself he’d been missing.

“ _Mako,_ ” the name is punched out of him.

“How’d you know that name?” growls Baraz, grabbing for the back of his collar again, but Wu is slim and slippery. He’s had a lifetime of demanding hands grabbing at him, shaking him. He wasn’t a good child, after all, at least not according to his aunt. Too good at slipping away. Too much like both his parents.

He slides away from Baraz’s grasping hands and jolts forward, crashing into a tense, unyielding body. His hands are still in the ice-cuffs so he can’t throw both arms around Mako the way he normally would.

“Mako, you’re _here._ You’re _okay._ ” Shit, his eyes are watering. He always was a crybaby, his aunt always said. She hated children, and she especially hated children who cried, even at their parents’ funerals.

He presses his forehead into Mako’s collarbone, and it’s far sharper than he remembers and something twists painfully at the thought of Mako suffering. Mako being hungry. Mako being alone and in pain.

“Wu?” the familiar voice is quiet. “Wu?”

There’s a hand in his hair now. Patting gently, then more firmly, fingers twisting in unruly grown-out curls.

“You know this guy?” Baraz asks in the background, but Wu’s having a hard time caring about that when his heartbeat is thunder in his ears and Mako is _here._

“We were taken at the same time,” Mako says, sounding a little shell-shocked even as his voice sharpens, “Why are you here? How are you here? Where’d they take you?”

Wu sniffles, tries not to get weepy. “Zhu Li got to me first. She hid me from Kuvira. Told everyone I was one of Varrick’s assistants. Said my name was Li. I didn’t know what happened to you. I’ve been on that awful train. Didn’t know where you were. Didn’t know what happened to you. Mako, I’ve been so worried.”

“Shh,” Mako’s hand is back to gently petting his hair. “I’ll tell you everything later.”

“This is touching,” the woman interjects, “But we’re on a tight timetable here, boys.”

“Ahnah is right,” Mako admits, “We’ll catch up later.”

“Oh, right, we’re hijacking the train,” Wu interjects before Mako can go all ‘planning Mako’ and completely tune out any suggestions.

“What.”

“Yeah, how soon do you think we could get all the prisoners in this place on board?”

“All-?”

Wu glares at Mako’s shadowy face. He looks thin. Too thin. And bruised, although that could just be the darkness. Wu hopes it’s just the darkness. His eyebrows are just as sharp as ever, which is weirdly comforting.

“These are my people, Mako. Earth Kingdom citizens. I will not leave them here.”

Something twists in Mako’s face, something complex and layered and probably beyond words, because he brings both hands up to squish Wu’s face between them and presses a rough, dry-lipped kiss to Wu’s forehead. “You.” He says, then stops, unable to continue.

“Me?” Wu asks, utterly confused, forehead tingling a little from the contact.

“We’ll do our best.”

“Okay?” Wu still has no idea what’s going on, but the kiss on the forehead was…neat? It was neat. Nice. Um. He has no idea what to do with that. Time to file it away to the ‘deal with later’ folder. “Can Ahnah uncuff me first?”

…

Contrary to public opinion, Wu is not an idiot. He is also not a train…driver? No…conductor? Whatever. He doesn’t drive trains. But he knows the theory and Varrick is very good about diagramming things. He knows how driving the train should work. Which is really all you need to know, right? Right. He’s got this train hijacking thing in the bag.

Mako and Ahnah went to gather as many of the prisoners as possible while he and Baraz get the train ready to depart and having Mako out of eyesight so soon after getting him back _in_ eyesight and definitely, absolutely _not_ making Wu anxious _at all_. That would be…that would be…completely logical, fuck. Wu’s heartrate is through the roof and he hasn’t even begun trying to conduct…drive… _whatever_ the train.

“So…is scary motherfucker your boyfriend or something?” Baraz, who is supposed to be getting the engines going, asks.

“No,” Wu huffs, “He’s my Mako. Next question.”

“So…” drat, there is another question, Wu had really been hoping Baraz would take that as a figure of speech. “Why’d they take you? You don’t really seem like a bender, no offense.”

Wu rolls his eyes. “No, I am not a bender. I’m the crown prince of the earth kingdom.”

“Well no need to get huffy.”

“I’m not getting huffy!”

“Little huffy there, buddy.”

“Fine, I’m huffy, but I’m also Earth Kingdom royalty, so it’s allowed.”

“…so like…you’re the pretender to the throne everyone was talking about?”

“I’M NOT A PRETENDER TO THE THRONE! I AM THE THRONE!”

“You know, you’re really not selling me on you not being crazy, buddy.”

“We aren’t buddies. I am not your buddy. Shovel coal.”

“Sure thing, your princeliness.”

“How are you and Mako friends?”

“I kind of annoyed him into submission.”

Wu blinks. “Yeah, that’s how Mako makes friends.”

Baraz grins at him. Wu wonders if shoving him in the coal bin is a viable option.

…

“We got as many as we could,” Ahnah says an indeterminate amount of time later.

Wu opens his mouth to ask who they couldn’t get and if they could go back for them. Ahnah gives him a look. Her eyes are shadowed, her face thin and bruised. “Some wouldn’t go. Some we couldn’t get to. We got as many as we did ‘cause the guards were throwing a party over in the barracks. Most of them are drunk off their asses. But that doesn’t mean they’re not dangerous.”

It’s Wu’s turn to grind his teeth. Kuvira did this. Kuvira did this to _their_ citizens. His _people._ This is his aunt and the air benders all over again and Wu _hates_ it. He hates how helpless he feels. He hates that he can’t save them all.

“Focus on the ones you can save now.” Oh, there’s Mako. And now that they’re in the train cabin and Wu can see Mako in full light he bites back a soft little shocked sound at the state of him.

Mako is thin. Thinner than Wu’s ever seen him. His cheek and jaw bones knives under his bronze skin. His hair is scruffy, the ends cut jaggedly. There’s faded bruises on his face, his arms, his throat. He looks like he’s been fighting. His eyes are hard and his stance is closed off the way he gets sometimes, like he’s seconds away from fighting or bolting. He’s ragged. Feral. Wu wants to hold him close and smooth his horrible hair and kiss his forehead and keep him safe. It’s a strange feeling. Wu isn’t used to feeling protective like this. When he first met Mako, the other man had seemed sort of semi-invincible, even after he’d gotten clobbered by a badgermole. There was fire in Mako. He scared Wu a little even as he fascinated him.

This Mako is different. And if Wu keeps looking at him, he’s going to start crying and jibbering about it all being his fault and apologizing until he throws up, and Mako would hate that, would never allow that, because despite appearances Mako is the most forgiving person Wu has ever met, and it’s really not fair. None of it is fair and Wu hates it. Hates that any of this happened to any of them.

“Okay?” Mako says. “Focus on saving as many as you can.”

Wu nods. He can do that.

“Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

…

The sun has crept over the horizon before the pursuit begins.

“Guys, we’re being followed,” Baraz yells from a window.

“Fuck,” Ahnah swears.

There’s a clutch of trucks painted in unmistakable green and silver trailing them and Mako, who hasn’t left Wu’s side as the hours ticked down.

“What’s the plan?” Wu asks him. Mako and the others had told him they were headed for the nearest port to hop a ship headed for Kyoishi Island when they hijacked the train. They’re making good time in the train, going faster than they possibly could on foot, but they aren’t exactly stealthy.

“Keep the train going, we’ll get rid of them,” Mako says.

“How?!?” Wu blurts. He’s just glad they’re just being chased by trucks; he has no idea what they’d do if Varrick’s prototype mecha-suits were in working order.

“Trust me.”

Wu makes a strained noise and glares at him.

“ _Fine._ ” He grinds out between his teeth.

“That’s the spirit.”

Wu hates him. He hates him so much. He especially hates him when Mako swings out of the MOVING FUCKING TRAIN to the ROOF to do SOMETHING INSANE.

“I hate him,” he tells Baraz conversationally.

Baraz blinks at him. “Suuuuure, buddy.”

Wu huffs.

…

The train is jolting. The train is jolting a lot and Baraz has left to join Mako and go fight on the _roof_ because apparently all fire benders are _insane_ and that’s not just a Mako thing, and Wu is white-knuckling the controls and wishing Varrick had installed some kind of offensive weapon on this thing.

Their saving grace is the bridge ahead. The rail bridge. Over a ravine. Where the trucks can’t follow them. Wu is trying to get as much power from the train engines as possible, both trying to outrun the trucks and to get them to that ravine as quickly as possible. He might not be able to steer a train but he can get it to go very, very fast, so that’s what he’s going to do. Outside the windows, he can see the trucks drawing even with the train, metal benders sending out lines to rappel onto the train, only to be rebuffed by waves of water studded with icy shrapnel (ouch!) from Ahnah (is Wu ever glad she removed those handcuffs after they reunited with Mako) and bolts of fire from Mako and Baraz. One of the trucks is peeling away, engine smoking faintly as it lunges forward, trying to draw even with the conductor’s cabin. One of the metal benders throws out a line and it must latch onto something because the trucks jolts and the train jolts and Wu grabs the coal shovel, ready to defend his post. But then there’s a dark blur sliding down the metal cable, slamming both feet into the metal bender’s chest before he can lift off. The cable detaches and spirals back and the figure in the truck is still fighting, hurling metal benders out of the truck but the end of that cable is descending. The metal bender who extended it hasn’t retracted it, too busy wrestling with the man hurling his comrades out of the truck. And then the fire bender tosses the metal bender out of the truck too, turning to grab at the steering wheel and it looks like the metal bender and his extended cable will no longer be a threat, but as the body flies to flop uselessly at the side of the road, the end of the cable snaps around and slaps the fire bender across the face like a scorned lover in a melodrama.

Wu is moving already, grabbing a coil of rope off the floor and hurling open the nearest exterior door, because that’s Mako. That’s Mako who jumped off a Vaatu-blasted _train_ and got clobbered by a spirits-cursed _metal cable_ and Wu has _had it_ with this day, this week, this year. He’s had it with Kuvira’s power grab and the ways it’s crushed everyone its’ path. He will _not_ lose Mako. Not again.

Mako is reeling in the driver’s seat, face bloodied, but eyes still open and body still moving and Wu is not thinking about what could have happened if that cable caught on him and pulled him out of that seat.

“MAKO!” Wu screams out of the door, praying his voice is loud enough to be heard over the roar of the wind, and that canyon and that bridge of coming up quick.

Mako looks up, thank Raava, sees him in the doorway, and floors the gas pedal. He jolts forward, drawing even with the train, blood flowing freely from one purpling cheekbone, dark brows drawn down over burning eyes. He seems to come to some sort of decision, releasing the steering wheel, jumping up on the seat, twisting around pushing hands behind himself, clapping his palms together and sending out a single, powerful, concussive blast. The truck _flies_ forward and Mako twists around and Wu throws the rope and Mako catches it, he catches it and he _jumps_ with another blast of firebending and Wu is reeling him in and he’s flying forward and then he’s hurtling through the doorway and flattening Wu in the process and they’re lying on the floor of the train clutching at each other and trying to scramble away from the open doorway at the same time.

They tumble into the conductor’s cabin, the doorway slamming shut behind them and they’re a tangle of limbs and Mako’s face is bleeding and Wu might be crying. The train rattles as it hits the bridge and there might be an explosion when the unmanned truck skids out. Baraz and Ahnah’s voices sound from the hallway outside, laughing and crying in relief.

The metal floor is cold through Wu’s undershirt (he’d shucked the Earth Empire uniform as soon as possible) and Mako is warm, too warm, burning warm, on top of him, all angles and bones and Wu’s hands twist in Mako’s uneven hair and he hangs on, pulling Mako close, closer, as close as possible, because he didn’t lose him, he’s here, bloody and scowling and dressed in horrible prison clothes. Their eyes meet and Mako opens his mouth and Wu is about to quip something about how Mako didn’t even lose any clothes this time, but he can’t get the words to assemble themselves into the right configuration, all he ends up saying is two words, punched out of his chest in a wounded gasp, “You’re here.”

“We’re okay,” Mako’s eyes are bright.

“Don’t cry, you’ll make your face hurt,” Wu’s hands slide down, out of his hair, to frame his face.

“Already hurts.” Mako keeps _looking_ at him, and Wu can’t stand it, can’t stand being seen like that.

“I –” there’s too many things to say, too many words that aren’t right and Wu’s written letter after letter in his head but now that Mako’s here none of those words work right. “I was so _scared_ for you.”

Mako makes a strange little noise in the back of his throat. His hands, where they grip Wu’s sides, tighten, like he can force them to stay reunited, like he can leave some intangible connection that distance and dictators can’t sever.

And Wu’s crying and Mako’s bleeding, and _now is not the time_ , but the train’s on the bridge, and Ahnah and Baraz are celebrating with the other escapees just outside the conductor’s car, and everything feels too bright, too much, too intensely good to stand.

Their first kiss tastes like blood and salt and smells like steel.

…

_Dear Mako,_

_Bataar jr. showed up at one of Raiko’s council meetings claiming ‘Republic City spies’ stole a very valuable train full of experimental prototypes._

_I really hope that was you, you lunatic._

_Your worried friend,_

_Asami_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Kyoshi Island!!!


	16. Kyoshi Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Asami,   
> Wu here, again. There’s good news and bad news. Good news first? I always like good news first. Good news it is, then. Good news: we’re alive!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO READ AND REVIEWED!!! I appreciate you all. 
> 
> So I didn't intend to go on hiatus for all of December, but real life got really rough for a bit there. I just didn't have the energy or will to write for a while. But I'm tentatively back in the saddle and hoping this chapter isn't too rough after my time away. 
> 
> Mild content warning for Mako talking through some of his issues (if you want to skip, just hop past Ty Lee introducing herself, straight to the end of the chapter).
> 
> Anyway, HAPPY 2021

**Kyoshi Island**

**_Dear Asami,_ **

**_Wu here, again. There’s good news and bad news. Good news first? I always like good news first. Good news it is, then. Good news: we’re alive! Our great prison break was a success – we stole a train, Mako jumped off the train, I reeled Mako back onto the train, at least one truck exploded, then we stole a boat, Mako did NOT jump off the boat, we arrived at Kyoshi Island, Mako NEARLY GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK by COLLAPSING on the dock from exhaustion, malnutrition, and some injuries he “didn’t think were important at the time”. That man. I swear. Luckily, some very lovely ladies with very sharp fans were there to catch him or his poor face would have ended up EVEN MORE MANGLED._ **

**_He’s currently in the hospital wing, being treated by Kya, who is lovely, and wonderful, and absolutely terrifying._ **

**_Bad news next. My kingdom is being slowly overtaken by a rampaging, power-mad lunatic who genuinely seems to think she’s doing the right thing (yeesh), we all just barely escaped from PRISON, I’m a wanted criminal, I think I’ve developed some kind of trauma-related train phobia, I have no idea where my relationship with Mako is at BECAUSE HE’S BEEN UNCONSCIOUS, Mako has been unconscious, and I’m functionally homeless and country-less._ **

**_It’s been A TRYING TIME, Asami. A TRYING TIME. I’m sure in a century or two this will all be a footnote in greater Earth Kingdom history, but right now, it’s my life and it’s AWFUL. Except for having Mako back. And being out of prison. Yay, freedom._ **

**_Meanwhile, the scary fan ladies seem to have collectively decided that the only way to keep me from hovering over Mako as he recovers is to functionally KIDNAP me and force me to learn how to defend myself. It’s very, very difficult and the only upside to it is the costume, which is very comfy and the perfect color for me, and the makeup, which is not, but we can’t win them all, I suppose._ **

**_Kya says hello, and that she’s thinking of you. Mako woke up for a bit and grumbled some nonsense at me that I won’t bother attempting to transcribe._ **

**_Best wishes and warmest regards,_ **

**_Prince Wu, heir-apparent-in exile_ **

…

The first thing Mako sees when he wakes up is an old man sitting beside his bed, whittling. He – the old man that is – seems completely absorbed in his project so Mako leaves him be for a moment and just watches him work. The man looks vaguely familiar – like maybe Mako’s met him before but Mako’s brain is too foggy to put a name to the face. Whoever he is, he’s obviously Southern Water Tribe, his snowy white hair tied up in the traditional Southern warrior’s wolf tail and threaded through with beaded braids. Mako wishes he could remember where he’d seen his face before, it’s nagging just at the back of his mind.

Whoever he is, the man is clearly not a master craftsman. His calloused hands are covered in wood shavings, but whatever he’s whittling is looking less recognizable by the second.

“What do you think, kid?” the old man asks, “Dragon or fish?” he holds up the object which looks…like a blob. A blob with weird stubby, uneven nubbins sticking out of it.

“Maybe if it were a starfish,” Mako rasps, throat dry and aching.

The old man jumps, “Whoa, didn’t think you were awake there, kiddo.”

“Then why did you ask?” Mako grumbles. Now that his body is waking up along with most of his brain, he’s realizing that head to toe, he’s basically one giant ache, like every muscle in his body is saying ‘ow’ all at once.

“Just trying to fill the silence. It gets kind of creepy in here all by myself,” the old man grins good-naturedly.

Mako would raise an eyebrow if his entire face didn’t feel half numb, half inflamed. What little he can see of the room, it’s large, bright, and airy, the wood-paneled walls glowing golden in the afternoon (or morning? Mako has no idea what time it is) sunlight. “Nicer than where I was last,” he says.

The old man shrugs, “We aim to please here on Kyoshi Island. Well, no, actually. We don’t. We mostly aim to kick ass and take names. But we’ll hold off on the ass-kicking since you’re in the hospital and all.”

“Thanks,” Mako says dryly.

“You’re welcome,” the old man grins again, “So, do you really think I could run with the ‘it’s a starfish’ explanation for this thing?” He holds up the hideous carving again.

“You don’t need to explain art, that’s why it’s art,” a new voice interrupts, Kya sweeping in behind the old man. She smiles at Mako, “Morning sunshine, how are you feeling?”

“Like I just broke out of prison, jumped off a train, and passed out on a boat.”

“Oh, you got all the way to the dock before you passed out,” the old man offers, “Nearly took out Suki when you fell.”

“At her age, she shouldn’t be jumping in to catch people when they pass out in front of her,” Kya says chidingly.

“What was she supposed to do? Let him faceplant into the hardwood?”

“You’re all as bad as each other,” Kya huffs, “At least Mom doesn’t run around doing anything insane anymore.”

“Your mother still lives at the South Pole in her eighties. She’s crazier than I am!” protests the old man, “ _I_ retired to a beautiful island full of very scary young people like a sensible world-saving hero!”

“Lord Zuko fights terrorists,” Mako offers, not really sure he’s following the conversation but sort of wanting to be included. “I met him.”

“ _Zuko_ would fight Vaatu himself if the floaty bastard antagonized him. _Zuko_ is an outlier and should not have been counted!” The old man huffs. “And he’s not cooler than me.”

“He has a dragon. You have a misshapen block of wood.” There was a time when Mako was smarter than this. There was a time when Mako would hold his tongue, observe his surroundings, wait to see what threat level he could be dealing with before provoking anyone. Maybe. Mako is having a hard time remembering any times in the last two or three years when he was that calculating, smart guy.

“Hey! Don’t insult Starfish!” the old man protests with no venom.

“He’s got you there, Uncle Sokka,” Kya says.

All at once the pieces all fit. Mako knows exactly where he’s seen that wolf tail and those sharp cheekbones. The statue in front of the Southern Water Tribe Cultural Center. Councilman Sokka, hero of the hundred years war, ambassador, strategist, statesman…whittler of unidentifiable fish-like objects? But wait, Korra said…

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Mako asks because tact is for people whose entire bodies don’t hurt.

Kya chokes on unexpected laughter. Sokka looks mortally offended. Kya stops trying to hold back and cackles outright.

“I’m supposed to be _what?_ ” Sokka squawks, “What is Katara telling you kids?!?”

Kya wheezes, “Mom told the Avatar you were ‘gone’ and she told all her friends…oh my spirits, that’s precious…”

“Gone as in _retired,_ not gone as in not-alive-anymore!” Sokka protests, “Not to brag, but I have broken pretty much every bone in my body pursuing peace, here, and let me tell you, that shit _hurts_ when you’re my age! Especially in the cold! There’s practically a whole Southern Water Tribe retirement community set up here! Has been since the war! We have a beach volleyball tournament every summer!”

“How is breaking every bone in your body a brag?” Mako, for whom breaking a bone would have been a death sentence on the streets, asks, not unreasonably.

“Pursuing peace!”

“Still. Every bone?”

Sokka huffs, and pulls a tragically-misunderstood face. “Kids these days!”

Kya is still snickering, “I can’t believe mom accidentally told the whole Team Avatar you were dead!”

“No wonder Korra doesn’t write,” Sokka huffs, “I knew no incarnation of Aang would be that distant!”

“What’s all the shouting?” a new, welcome voice interrupts and Mako nearly flings himself off the bed with how quickly he sits up, over Kya’s protests.

“Wu, you’re okay?” he calls.

“Mako? Mako!” a green figure bounces over and Mako is momentarily taken aback because that’s not Wu – except it is, it is Wu, just Wu wearing full Kyoshi warrior getup, complete with face paint, for no apparent reason. Kyoshi-warrior-Wu grabs Mako’s face, making him yelp in pain, immediately releases Mako’s face, blurting out a dozen apologies and settles for gripping his shoulders. “You’re awake, Mako, you’re awake!”

“And you’re wearing a lot of makeup,” Mako says stupidly. His head is spinning. He definitely sat up too quickly, but the high of seeing his…whatever Wu was, alive and unharmed hasn’t had enough time to settle back down to normal levels of ‘oh, so nice to see you’ from ‘oh thank Raava we aren’t dead’.

“I’ve been training with the warriors!”

“They let guys do that?”

“Only if you wear the dress,” Sokka interjects, “Speaking from personal experience.”

“It’s actually very comfortable, and the color brings out my eyes, all the ladies agree,” Wu says primly. He refocuses on Mako, “But Mako, you’re awake! You’ve mostly been sleeping between water healing sessions the last few days.”

“What about the others?” Mako asks, his mind sharpening the longer he’s awake.

“Ahnah was the worst off after you,” Wu says, “She drained her energy pretty badly keeping everyone in one piece for so long with her healing. Not to mention, the two of you had the worst untreated injuries out of everyone.” Wu’s gaze sharpens, “And don’t think we aren’t talking about what you two did to yourselves to escape. You two basically broke or half-way broke everything in your bodies brawling in the camps!”

“It wasn’t…we didn’t…” Mako hedges.

“Those other prisoners we liberated? They told me everything.” Wu is looking seriously unimpressed with his prevarication, so Mako just gives up on lying and falls back on bluntness.

“It was necessary.”

“We can debate necessity all you want, it still doesn’t change the fact that you’re not invincible and you were very, very hurt.”

Mako doesn’t know what to do with the look Wu is giving him. He’s not used to this level of…whatever this is. He’s used to being the one giving the lecture. The one telling Bolin not to be so reckless, Korra to stay safe, Asami to drive carefully. He’s the one who’s supposed to take the hits and keep on moving, the one who suffers so someone else doesn’t have to. That’s his job, and part of being that person is everyone around you tacitly agreeing not to look to closely, not to think too hard about what might have happened, what might _be happening_ to him.

But somehow Wu didn’t get that memo. Ignored the ‘don’t think too hard or worry too much about Mako’ message. Because no matter how vapid and selfish he seems, Wu is always looking for him, looking at him, paying attention to what happens to him and getting angry on his behalf when he’s wronged.

It’s fucking weird. And uncomfortable. A little jarring. Unsettling in the extreme.

And weirdly wonderful, too. Comfortable in a way Mako thought he’d given up when he’d found himself on the street with nothing but an inconsolable little brother and his father’s scarf at age eight.

All this doesn’t change the fact that he has no clue how to respond to Wu here. “Sorry?” he tries.

Wu stares at him. Mako can’t really read his facial expression through the face paint. “You.” He finally declares, poking him between the eyebrows, “are impossible.”

“Thank you?”

Wu throws up his hands in a ‘why do I even try?’ gesture.

“If you’re done chastising the patient, I do need to check on that facial wound,” Kya says dryly somewhere behind Wu.

The prince, instead of standing, up sits down on the bed and scootches over until he’s sitting on Mako’s left side, leaving the other side open for Kya to remove the bandage on his right cheek.

Mako doesn’t flinch when Kya delicately peels the gauze away, but Wu threads their fingers together and gives Mako’s hand a squeeze anyway.

“Well, the good news is, the gashes are healing as cleanly as they can,” Kya says, “the bad news is, you and Lin are going to match.”

“What do you mean?” Mako demands. He hasn’t had a chance to look in a mirror since long before their prison break, and he’s not 100% sure he wants to know what he’ll see when Kya holds one up. But he looks despite himself, choosing to ignore the sorry state his hair’s in (it’s been greasier, he tells himself, it’s even been cut way worse, he tells himself…it’s…it’s hideous and he can’t stand it, is what decidedly does not tell himself) to focus on the marks on his face. Two bright red slashes curve across his right cheek, starting close to his nose and carving up his cheekbone to taper off just past the far corner of his right eye. The skin around them is an ugly greenish purple from the bruising, and the whole area is badly swollen. It could be worse. He could have lost the eye. Or broken his nose. But it’s…not great.

Mako doesn’t like to think he’s vain, but he’s always taken pride in his appearance. In looking as neat and put together and capable as possible. His mother told him that if he dressed like he took himself seriously, other people would take him seriously too, and he’s always followed that rule, even as it got harder and he got hungrier. He wouldn’t give anyone any reason to look down on him if he could help it.

It didn’t hurt that having a handsome, marketable face had kept audiences interested in him as a pro-bender, even when he was so new to the sport, he didn’t know half the rules.

So, the sick sense of weird, misplaced _fear_ at seeing a massive, disfiguring scar on his face is…unexpected but not inexplicable. He forces it down, reminds himself no one gives a shit what he looks like now. His face isn’t the only thing keeping food on the table anymore. He can afford to look as rough and ragged as he wants. It’s fine. He’s fine.

Wu squeezes his hand again and Mako remembers to let out the breath he’d been unintentionally holding.

“The Chief won’t like that,” he says on the exhale. “She says I’m enough of a copy-cat already.”

“The Chief,” Kya rolls her eyes at the nickname, “Had better just be happy you’re mostly in one piece.” She draws up a blob of gently glowing water, “Now, let’s try to get some of that swelling down. I won’t be able to prevent scarring, but at least I can speed up the process a little.”

“I’ll be on my way, then,” Sokka says cheerfully. “I’ve seen the water magic mumbo jumbo plenty of times.”

“For the last time, Uncle Sokka, it’s not magic!” Kya protests.

Her uncle keeps talking as if she hadn’t even spoken, “Maybe I’ll give Suki the starfish I made. She’ll like it.”

“She’ll tolerate it just like all the other weird stuff you give her,” Kya calls after him.

“After this many decades in each other’s lives, it’s basically its own love language,” Sokka laughs, ambling away.

Kya rolls her eyes even harder, “Alright, now let’s see what we can do about that face of yours.”

…

The next morning Mako follows the sounds of voices and the clack of practice weapons to the training hall. Kya had warned him away from strenuous activity, but lying around in a hospital bed aching was driving him slowly mad, and he can’t imagine a world in which ‘walking slowly’ is anything approaching ‘strenuous’. He turns a corner to see a group of children, a few of his fellow prisoners (looking much healthier in fresh, non-prison-issue clothes) and Wu enthusiastically flailing their way through basic martial arts forms.

All of Mako’s non-bending combat training isn’t so much training as it is bloody-knuckled experience, and there’s something weirdly soothing about watching the kids (and their adult counterparts) moving through each set of proscribed motions. Before he realizes it, Mako has slid down to sit on the floor, mind drifting as he watches them practice, the old woman at the front of the room guiding them through every stance and step with an even tone and patient words.

“Weirdly calming, isn’t it?” a voice interrupts the slow, cloud-like drift of Mako’s thoughts. His attention sharpens as he turns to see an old woman sitting next to him. She’s small and wiry, with a long silver braid and sparkling brown eyes.

“Where did you come from?” he blurts and instantly regrets it. “I mean, hello.”

“Hello to you too,” the woman gives him a crooked smile, “And I live here. I’m Ty Lee.”

“Are you one of the Kyoshi Warriors?”

“I was, a long time ago. Now I leave it to the young ones. I have more time for my hobbies! Flower crown?” she holds out a wreath of pastel pink flowers she got from…somewhere. Mako has no idea. She doesn’t seem to have any pockets or a bag. It defies all logic and explanation.

Mako takes the flower crown. She gestures expectantly. Mako stares at her. She stares back.

Mako puts on the flower crown.

Ty Lee beams at him and claps. “You look fabulous.”

“Is that Suki?” he asks after a moment, gesturing to the woman leading the class.

“Yes, how did you know?” 

“I vaguely remember nearly collapsing on top of her.”

Ty Lee laughs lightly, “It wouldn’t be the first time someone collapsed on top of her.”

Mako frowns at her, “What?”

Ty Lee shrugs, “Life is funny sometimes.”

“That answers none of my questions.”

“It wasn’t supposed to,” Ty Lee smiles serenely.

“So…” Mako hedges. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say to this woman. He’s never been the type to just…coexist…comfortably with strangers. That was always more Bolin’s thing.

“So,” Ty Lee stretches her arms over her head, “I hear things got exciting over in the Earth Kingdom.”

“That’s…one way to put it.”

“How are you feeling about everything?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

Ty Lee looks at him. Mako stubbornly refuses to look back. He keeps his eyes fixed on the training room, glued to the back of Wu’s head.

“You don’t have to be, you know,” she finally says. “I think that’s one of the biggest lies we tell ourselves. That we have to be fine to be good. That if we’re sad or hurt or not able to do everything we normally do and more, we’ve failed as people.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mako scoffs.

“Why?” Ty Lee asks.

“Because it doesn’t work like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Because I don’t get to not be fine.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I’m not fine it all falls apart,” Mako snaps in an undertone. “Because if I’m not fine, then Korra’s distracted, if I’m not fine, Bolin has to fend for himself, if I’m not fine Wu could _die_.”

“So, what I’m hearing is you’re pretty important to these people,” Ty Lee says.

“I serve a purpose to them. And I can’t serve that purpose if I’m too,” he gestures vaguely, “ _distraught_ to function.”

“So, they only keep you around so you can do things for them? That sounds horribly unfair.”

“No, they’re the best people I know.”

“So, either they’re using you, or they genuinely care about you. And if they care about you, they would want to help you if you ever need it.”

“But I don’t need it. I can’t need it. I have to be better than it.”

“Why? From the sound of things, you’d drop everything in an instant if any of your friends needed you. Why shouldn’t you get the same treatment?”

“ _Because I don’t deserve it and they do,_ ” Mako hisses.

Ty Lee looks at him with big, sad eyes. Mako hates it. Hates her. Hates the feeling crawling over his skin. Hates his weak, aching body for trapping him here, in this conversation.

“I’m not a good person, Ty Lee,” Mako snarls, “I’m rude and harsh and cold. I don’t understand emotions, I don’t understand _people,_ and frankly, I don’t even _like_ most people. And after ten years on my own, I can safely say my priorities are pretty narrow. I’m not the type to save the world. I’m the type who takes what I can get and protects what I can and survives until the end. I’m not _good_. The best I can hope for is to give the actual good guys, the ones with big hearts and high aspirations, whatever I can so they can do their thing, save the world, whatever. Bolin? Korra? Asami? Wu? They all love something bigger than themselves. All I can do is love them for it, without expecting anything in return.”

Ty Lee’s eyes are full of tears. Mako abruptly feels like shit. He already felt like shit, but this somehow makes it worse.

“You should.”

“What?” Mako growls.

“You should expect something in return. Because I’m sure your friends, if they’re anything like what you think they are, would give it to you in a heartbeat.”

Mako looks away.

“He’s here because Suki was worried about him,” Ty Lee says softly into the silence.

“What?” Mako seems to be saying that a lot.

“Your Prince Wu. He wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat. He was fretting himself to exhaustion over you. He kept saying this was all his fault. So, Suki had him join the junior warrior class.” Ty Lee offers him a gentle smile, “I think maybe the two of you are so in your heads about responsibility and duty and whatnot, you’re forgetting just to reach out to each other. To meet in the middle. You’re not each other’s responsibility. You’re each other’s _partners_. And part of that is accepting that bad things will happen. And that you have to trust that your partner is a capable adult who will make their own choices and carry their own burdens. Instead of fighting over whose burden it is to carry, or worse, trying to take it away from your partner without their consent, maybe offer to carry it together, instead? Just a thought from a little old lady.”

Mako pulls his knees up to his chest and hugs his shins the way he hasn’t since he was a child.

“You care about each other so much,” Ty Lee says, “but you have to learn to reach out instead of smother.”

“I – ” Mako pauses, unsure what to say next. “Thank you, Ty Lee. I’ll think about what you’ve said.”

“Alright, then.” She smiles. “If you ever want to talk. About anything, really. I’ll be around. Oh, look, I think the class is letting out early. Go get your prince, hot stuff.” She winks, rolling to her feet with far more grace than any woman in her eighties should have.

Mako sits and reflects, time slipping away from him just a bit until, between one blink and the next, the class has dispersed, the instructor has gone and Wu is standing in front of him in casual clothes, makeup hastily removed.

“Hey there,” Wu says, “Nice to see you up and about, big guy.”

“I’m sitting on the floor,” Mako says dryly.

“Figure of speech,” Wu chuckles. His face flushes briefly, and Mako almost wonders why, but then a hand is being shoved in his face, Wu awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck with the other hand. “Uh? Walk with me? Unless you can’t. Unless you’re tired. Oh, Raava in a teapot, I just asked a guy in a hospital to join me for mildly strenuous activity.”

He looks like he’s working himself up to a full-blown ramble, and he’s just so…Wu. So perfectly, utterly Wu Hou-Ting, that Mako has to chuckle and take his hand. He means to say ‘sure, I’ll join you’, but what comes out is “I missed you.”

Wu pauses mid-babble, and smiles, all soft. “I missed you too. So stupid much.”

“Join me for mildly strenuous activity?” Mako asks, shoving himself to his feet.

Wu tucks his arm through Mako’s “Sure thing, hot stuff.”

“That had better not be catching on. An old lady just called me that. After she psychoanalyzed me. And gave me a flower crown.”

“Well, we can’t have old ladies stealing my cute nicknames! That’s treason, that is!”

“I don’t think it counts as treason.”

“High crimes, I say!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously cute, you mean.”

“Sure, whatever you say, Your Majesty.”

“Can I have your flower crown?”

“No.”

…

_Dear Wu/Mako,_

_You two are going to give me heart failure one of these days._

_Your exhausted friend,_

_Asami_


	17. Pabu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Asami,   
> Please tell me Pabu somehow magically got to Republic City without us and is currently getting the stuffing hugged out of him by Bolin? Otherwise, I am very dead.  
> Mako

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR YOUR LOVELY COMMENTS!!!
> 
> This chapter is a little break from Mako and Wu's POV to focus what happened to Pabu while the boys were imprisoned. And let me tell you, writing from an animal's POV is very hard. Animals, for some reason, don't know human things like names or what cars are and the line between 'making this make sense from an animal's perspective' and 'annoying, confusing bullshit for a human to read' is very thin. 
> 
> I promise, we'll be back to human POVs next chapter.

**Pabu**

_Dear Asami,_

_Please tell me Pabu somehow magically got to Republic City without us and is currently getting the stuffing hugged out of him by Bolin? Otherwise, I am very dead._

_Oh, and I’m currently not dead. In case you were wondering. Wu and I are on Kyoshi Island currently. It’s really nice here. I’ve made some friends (shocking, I know). They’re all retired warriors who joke about beating me up, though, so that could explain it. According to Bolin, I have a warped sense of humor and trust issues. Whatever. I like the violent old people. They get me._

_Seriously. Please tell me you have Pabu. Otherwise I am, and I repeat. Very dead._

_Mako_

…

“Bolin is going to kill me,” Mako says apropos of nothing while Kya is re-bandaging his face and Wu is chattering at him for moral support.

Wu stops his ramble and blinks at him. “Um. Why?”

Mako sighs in resigned despair. “I lost Pabu when we got arrested.”

Kya pauses in bandaging his face. “That little fire ferret he’s so attached to?”

“Yep.”

“He can’t possibly hold that against you,” Wu blusters. “You were illegally detained and tormented for weeks! You couldn’t have done anything! I’m an animal lover as much as anyone else, but _priorities_!”

Mako gives Wu a dead-eyed stare. It is even more effective now that he has an enormous facial wound to really underscore it. “You know how we got Pabu? Bolin broke into a pet store to rescue him from becoming snake food. After I explicitly told him not to. He is completely irrational when it comes to Pabu.”

Kya is nodding, which does not fill Mako with confidence. “He is a little…extremely attached.”

Wu pauses, face falling a little. Wu loves Pabu too, Mako knows. Raava in a teapot, _Mako_ loves the furry little creature. Pabu came into their lives just as things were starting to get better for them. Pabu was, for a while, the one thing that was always warm and welcoming. Even when he and Bolin fought, even when he was hungry, or lonely, or exhausted, Pabu was always there, full of the simple affection an animal has for its people.

“Pabu is smart,” Wu ventures, “And he’s obviously tough since he’s kept up with you for so long, big guy,” the prince offers a little smile, “I bet he got away. He’s probably booking it back to Bolin and Republic City as we speak.”

“Yeah,” Mako agrees, accepting the false hope for what it is, “Probably.”

…

The metal men took away Sparky Man and Green Man and Pabu doesn’t know what to do. His legs are too short to keep up with the rolling machines. His teeth aren’t sharp enough to bit through the hands that grab for him. The same hands that grabbed for his people. So, he runs. And runs. He finds the room they’d been staying at. He hides. The outside is loud. The metal men are stomping through the town, searching, searching. Searching for what, Pabu doesn’t know. But it reminds him of the trappers who took him from his home when he was small, and he is afraid.

He doesn’t want to be in a cage.

That was what Laughing Boy promised when he and Sparky Man (Sparky Boy then) when he freed him from the Bad Place. (They’ve lived in a lot of bad places, places with mildew and rot and loud noises, and not-safe people, but that place, the place with the cages is and always will be Pabu’s personal Bad Place.)

Laughing Boy promised no more cages.

And Laughing Boy kept his word.

But Laughing Boy (Laughing Man, maybe, now. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Laughing Boy.) isn’t here.

Pabu sleeps under the bed in Green Man and Sparky Man’s room. He wants to sleep on Green Man’s pillow, the way he normally does (even when Sparky Man grumbles about it). But he can’t risk one of the metal men coming here and seeing him. He can’t risk another cage.

Sparky Man is a fighter, Pabu tells himself. Sparky Man will get free. Sparky Man and Green Man will come back for him, just like Sparky Man and Green Man always do.

The sun sets and rises again and Sparky Man does not return. 

Pabu chitters softly to himself, rubbing his paws together. He doesn’t know what to do. Sparky Man always comes back.

He waits another day. The bad-noises outside from the metal men’s searching fade away. There is silence. Then good-noises of the town and the people pick up again and Pabu knows the way every animal that’s ever been hunted knows that the danger has passed. But if the danger is gone and Sparky Man isn’t back…

Pabu thinks for the first time, that maybe this is the time Sparky Man doesn’t return. Pabu doesn’t like that thought, but it comes back again and again no matter how tightly he curls into himself or how much he tries to run around the room to get away from it.

The sun sinks down. It goes cold and dark and quiet outside.

There is no sign of Sparky Man.

Pabu is hungry. He’s eaten all the snacks Green Man stashed in his bag. He’s begun to nibble through Sparky Man’s dried meat and other emergency supplies.

Pabu is scared.

Pabu has never been alone before. In the forest that used to be his home he’d had his mother and his siblings. In the Bad Place with the cages he had the Bad Man and the other animals (most who wanted to eat him, because, as he’s said, it was a Bad Place). And then there was Laughing Boy and Sparky Man, and later Flowers-and-Steel Girl and Raava-and-Girl and so many others.

Pabu does not know how to be alone.

So, he decides, he must stop being alone as soon as possible. This means finding home or finding Sparky Man, who is much better at finding home than Pabu is, although he’s been struggling with it lately.

But the next morning, when Pabu goes sniffing for Sparky Man and Green Man, he finds only metal men smells. His humans were separated from each other and taken away by different groups of metal men in different types of metal things on wheels. Pabu follows the smell of oil-water-steel as far as he can until the sun goes down and his paws ache and he cannot follow it any longer.

He curls up under a bush and chitters despondently to himself.

How is he supposed to fight the metal men and their metal things? That’s always been Sparky Man’s job. Sparky Man fights the Bad Things and Laughing Boy makes them feel happy and safe. That’s always been the way of things. Pabu does not like this new way of doing things. Not at all.

The fire ferret finally falls into a light, exhausted doze under his bush, hungry and sad, and cold. He doesn’t like cold. That was another thing Sparky Man is supposed to fight.

He’s woken by the sound of something much bigger than he growling deep in its throat.

Pabu shrieks in surprise, jumping up and away from the bush just in time to avoid the saber-moose’s antlers as they crash through his erstwhile shelter. The fire ferret skitters back as the saber-moose stomps forward, antlers out like a pair of extremely menacing tree branches.

Tree branches.

Climbing.

Pabu, chittering a battle cry, launches himself forward, using his nimble paws to climb up the antlers and other the saber-moose’s head, where he bends down and bites one of its soft, fuzzy ears.

Pabu’s teeth may not be sharp enough to use on the metal men, but they’re more than enough to send the saber-moose bolting forward. Pabu clings to his new vehicle and hopes for the best. He knows he can’t follow the metal men who have Sparky Man and Green Man, but maybe if he gets away from the metal men’s hunting grounds, he’ll find some friendly humans. Maybe the windy people and their bisons will appear. They always seem to appear when Sparky Man and Green Man need them.

Satisfied with his plan and unwilling or unable to assess its faults, Pabu curls up on the saber-moose’s head, digging his toes into its fur and hanging on for dear life. Hopefully, it will take him someplace good.

…

It takes him someplace. ‘Good’ is debatable. The saber-moose runs until it hits a road, narrowly missing getting side-swiped by a speeding metal-thing. The saber-moose coming to a sudden and unforeseen stop may save it from an untimely encounter with the racing metal-thing, but does not spare Pabu. The fire ferret, being far lighter than the saber-moose, is flung off the creature’s head and directly into the lap of one of the metal-thing’s human occupants.

“RAAVA AND VAATU, YOU ALMOST HIT THAT SABER-MOOSE!” a human voice yells.

“ALMOST, BUT DIDN’T,” objects the human controlling the metal-thing.

“Oh, hey, Pabu,” says the human Pabu has landed on.

Pabu, head spinning, tries to flip himself over from where he’s landed belly-up. Once he’s righted himself, he looks up and into a familiar face. Paint-and-Steel Man nods down at him cordially.

“Where’d you get a fire ferret, Huan?” asks the man controlling the metal-thing.

“He fell off the saber-moose you almost hit, Wing.”

“Told you, you suck at driving, let me have a turn.”

“No way, Wei. I’m a way better driver than you.”

“You are equally terrible,” Paint-and-Steel Man says.

Pabu knows these people. These are Wind-and-Earth Girl’s littermates. He chitters happily. Humans are very stupid, and he knows he won’t be able to tell them anything of substance, but maybe he can let them know to be wary of the hunters.

“Wasn’t he with Mako and Wu?”

“How do you even know that’s Pabu. He’s a fire ferret. They kind of…tend to look alike?”

Paint-and-Steel Man sighs. Pabu can relate.

“I have an artist’s eye. I can tell this is Pabu.”

Pabu chitters emphatically to let him know he’s correct.

“See? It’s Pabu.”

“Or it’s just noisy.”

The metal thing jerks under them and Pabu squalls, clinging to the human under him’s shirt.

“Seriously, Wing?”

“Shut up, Wei.”

“Let me drive.”

“No!”

Paint-and-Steel Man sighs, one hand coming up to hold Pabu more securely. “Pabu was traveling with Mako and Wu. Now he is not. Does that not strike you as troubling?”

“Well…it’s weird? But those guys are kinda weird.”

More sighing. “Use your brains. I beg of you.”

“Yeah,” the twin behind them says, “I kind of agree with Huan. If Pabu is out riding saber-moose…where are Mako and Wu? We’d know if they made it to Republic City. So, if Pabu got separated from them…something’s up.”

Paint-and-Steel Man opens a bag and offers Pabu some jerky. The fire ferret eagerly snatches it and gobbles it up. “Kuvira is looking for them,” he says as he offers Pabu more snacks, “She didn’t take kindly to what Mako did to her train.”

“I mean… he kind of trashed it,” the driving twin admits. “Which was probably totally justified, not gonna argue with a little train trashing. But we also don’t know what exactly the circumstances were and we can’t actually prove whatever Mako may or may have done to the train was justified.”

“It was justified,” Paint-and-Steel Man may need to be renamed ‘Snack Man’ in Pabu’s increasingly well-fed and sleepy opinion.

“How do you know?” asks the second twin.

“I know things.”

“Veeeery helpful.”

The brothers continue to bicker as Pabu, full and warm for the first time in days, dozes off.

…

Pabu wakes up to a dragon sniffing him.

This should be terrifying on a number of levels, but Pabu knows this dragon. He chirps a happy greeting and scrambles out of the metal-thing’s seat (his human pillow has left him to rest while he, presumably goes off to do human-things) up the creature’s snout to nestle between his horns, where his mane begins. The dragon raises his head, carrying Pabu with him. Pabu chirrs happily, letting the wind comb through his fur. The dragon is very warm, pulsing with living fire and Pabu basks in it.

Below them, the twins and their brother speak with Dragon Man, the dragon’s human. They all seem very concerned about something. Pabu hopes it’s the fates of Green Man and Sparky Man. Snatches of their conversation drift up to Pabu’s perch and the dragon kindly lowers his head so Pabu can hear better.

“So, we’re driving along, everything is going fine.”

“It was not fine, Wing, you’re a terrible driver!”

“Shut up, Wei, you’re just jealous you lost the coin toss.”

“Ugh!”

“Anyway, we’re cruising along and out of nowhere, I mean NOWHERE there comes this huge saber-moose just CHARGING right AT us! And just as I think we’re gonna collide, PABU comes FLYING off the saber-moose and crash-lands RIGHT into Huan’s lap! And we’re like ‘whaaaaat, where did this little guy come from?’”

“No,” huffs Pabu’s former pillow, “I said ‘hello, Pabu’ and you two fought about who was the better driver.”

“Shh, Huan, I’m telling the story with pizzazz.”

“Could we table the pizzazz for later,” interrupts Dragon Man. “And just focus on the facts?”

“Fine, whatever. Pabu shows up. And we’re like ‘where are Mako and Wu? Wasn’t Pabu with them?’ And, I dunno if you know this, but Mako kiiiiind of liberated Wu from Kuvira when she tried to soft-core kidnap him.”

“Soft core kidnapping?” the Dragon Man sounds skeptical.

“It was voluntary until they drugged him and locked him in a cell. I think. Details are unclear.”

“They would be clearer if you let me tell the story,” Pabu’s pillow says dryly.

“Aaaaanyway,” the twin continues, “Mako really fucked up the train escaping. So Kuvira is pissed. And she’s put a bounty out on him and Wu.”

“That would explain all the poster I’ve been seeing everywhere,” Dragon man comments, “Mako should be very proud. Wanted posters in the earth kingdom is a real personal achievement.”

The twins stare at him blankly. Pabu’s pillow nods, “Agreed.”

“I’m currently doing humanitarian work on behalf of the White Lotus and Fire Lord Izumi, I can take Pabu with me and see if we hear anything about Mako or Prince Wu. We’re scheduled to resupply in Republic City in a few weeks. I’ll leave him with Asami there if we don’t find Mako and the prince.”

“Thank you, Lord Zuko!” the twins chorus.

“This is a troubling development,” the Dragon Man reflects, “I don’t like what I’m seeing from Kuvira. Order is all well and good, and something the Earth Kingdom badly needs if it’s going to recover from the recent chaos. But order as a justification for violence and cruelty…I saw much of that in my youth. I do not want to see the Earth Kingdom become the Fire Nation I grew up in.”

Pabu doesn’t know what that means, but he’s afraid of the hunters and the metal men, very afraid. And it sounds like the Dragon Man is too.

…

_Dear Mako,_

_The first I hear from you for WEEKS and you’re asking about your PET FIRE FERRET? I could KILL YOU. You had better be in one piece because the second I’m not drowning in work I am COMING FOR YOUR ASS._

_Also, you had better not break Wu’s heart. He cares about you so much and I know how you get. When people care about you, you either run away (figuratively and literally), or you go into obsessive caretaker mode. Don’t argue with me, I’m your best friend. I know you. Don’t you dare break that sweet idiot’s heart just because you’re afraid of feeling more than two emotions in a calendar year._

_You care so much, so deeply, Mako. But you’re defensive as a platypus bear and afraid of letting people see your soft spots. You’re not made of stone, whatever you want the world to think. And this guy, at the very least, seems to think the world of you. Be kind. No matter what. It’s okay not to feel the same way, just as much as it’s okay to like him back. But be kind, my friend._

_All my worry, and all my best wishes,_

_Asami_

_P.S. Lord Zuko arrive after I wrote this, so this P.S. is a little cramped – he had Pabu with him and was VERY RELIEVED YOU WEREN’T DEAD. Pabu is a little clingy and freaked out, but he’s with Bolin now, who has not stopped crying relieved tears since. He’s decompressing in a very…watery way now that we have confirmation you’re ok._

_P.P.S. You’ve very lucky I have an actual address to send this to or you would be stuck living in suspense re: Pabu’s fate for an indeterminate period of time. Wonder what that’s like._

…

_~~Dear Asami,~~ _

_~~I think I love Wu and it scares me stupid.~~ _

_~~Mako~~ _

_Dear Asami,_

_I’m very glad Pabu is alright and Bolin isn’t plotting my murder. In other news, Kuvira has demanded Kyoshi Island return to the Earth Kingdom and agree to her terms for “protection” and we’re preparing in case we have to defend the island. So that’s neat._

_Mako_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned I love Asami? Because I love her very much. Also, Huan is my favorite Beifong child. Like, I love Opal. But Huan could have his own Bob Ross art show and I would watch it.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos welcome!
> 
> Credit for pointing out Wu would probably have a queue hairstyle pre-Republic City goes to OurImvapidHeroine's lovely series


End file.
